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thesharktanksdriver · 29 days ago

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The witch boy and magical girl (platonic)

Sorry the ending is a bit rushed, I have a wake This weekend and a funeral plus exam on Monday

I still wanted to get this out tho so enjoy!

Magical girl y/n masterlist

Bruce could deal with a lot more than the average person could ever imagine

He’s dealt with a literal killer manic clown

Aliens

Vampires

56 assassins attacking him at once

Literal end of the world events once a year at least

But he doesn’t think anything compares to what he finds himself peering in on now

When he adopted a daughter who fights shadow creatures that feed off of negative human emotions and want to literally eat the universe he knew he was gonna see some weird shit

The weird cosmic ferret, he’d mentally dealt with that already

Same with the Magical weapons that transform and how his new daughter could change her appearance at will

That he could all deal with

But watching his daughter paint her nails with Klarion the witch boy, lord of chaos while they talked about sailor moon wasn’t something he thought he’d have to grapple with

So instead he closes the door and ponders his life and how it got to this point

How you somehow befriended the witch boy started as all good things do

Accidentally finding a someone being tormented by Shadowmites that you have to then kill

But oddly enough instead of the usual human it was…a cat?

An orange cat with distinct blood red eyes and striped black rigged markings

It hissed and scratched at the Shadowmites but was unable to harm them much to its confusion

Until you whacked its assailants with a hammer making them dissipate into nothing

It stared at you and you stared at the cat

And it just kinda tagged along with you for the rest of your patrol

To be fair…having a ultra intelligent possibly eldritch creature in the disguise of a regular animal wasn’t really a “new” thing to you

So when the cat began to follow you it didn’t really bother you much

If anything it was kinda funny especially since Rigel seemed to have an almost silent companionship with the feline

Staring down at the ginger cat from his perch on your shoulders as you continued your nightly patrol

Chittering and barking as the cat meowed back occasionally

If at this point you questioned anything in life anymore you’d be curious as to how their seemingly communicating but now you couldn’t really care

You were just happy the seemingly demon cat got along with your ex-deity ferret

Along with the fact that this seemingly aggressive cat who tried to scratch the eyes out of anyone who got too close for its liking seemed to enjoy your presence

Even at one point during your food break curling up in your lap wanting to be lavished in attention

The violent cat being reduced to a softly purring mass of fluffy orange hair

Black leather collar and red gemstone attached to it

This was definitely some bougie cat, almost definitely a supernatural one as well considering it saw Shadowmites

But the collar definitely implied an owner

A rich one at that too

So you post online with a picture of yourself and the cat asking for its owner

Mostly since the collar had some type of ancient language not spoken by you in a hieroglyphic type of alphabet

Cool as hell

But impractical to you as you tried to Google translate it

He’ll you’d even sent a picture to dick and all you got back was garbled nonsense that looked like he slammed his face against a keyboard

Which was probable since he was on yet another coffee bender where he stayed up for too long

Alfred would definitely not be pleased

But back on topic of the eldritch Garfield cat, eventually you got a response

But not via online

More like in person since a figure then materialized in front of you via scarlet fire

And there floating in all his glory was lord of chaos Klarion the witch boy

Looking back maybe you should have payed more attention during that one league meeting your dad took you to where they talked about him

To be fair though, at the time you were surviving on 2 hours of sleep, a combination of redbull and monsters along with hopes and dreams

So you couldn’t be blamed in remembering he had a cat familiar

Or said cat familiar was likely an eldritch level entity in the form of a cat

A cat with red eyes

….ok maybe there were more obvious warnings and you were just excited about the weird cat to notice

As you had a mental debate with yourself there he stood, hair pointed upwards into what looked to be horns and in a suit

Magic twisting around him in a scarlet aura

Distinctly you notice patches of ice blue on the tips of his fingers that quickly distort to the flesh tone consistent with him

And from then on out the encounter with him is…odd to say the least

His cat (whom you then learned was named Teekl) getting up from your lap

Klarion is….odd

He scoops up his familiar fretting over the ginger cat, making subtle threats your way the entire time

Asking the kitty if he had to “erase someone from existence” once again

But luckily for you whatever the cat meows to him is enough for him to cast a glance back to you

Though now not out of suspicion but instead curiosity

(Something perhaps to others would be just as bad)

He quirks an eye at you, looking you up and down once more but now giving you a proper look

Now seeming to notice your own magical aura and companion of otherworldly nature

And suddenly something clicks in his head

“You’re that magic girl I’ve heard about.” He says gliding a hand through the fur of his familiar, the demonic cat purring in content.

“Bit vague of a statement, but yeah that’s one way to describe me I guess” you respond shrugging your shoulders laxly, he seems on edge even with your demeanour.

“And your…not attacking me? Not trying to play goody-two shoes? And “bring me to justice” with a big speech about doing good” He almost seems to hiss this out. A defensive air to him.

“Look dude, I deal with weird inter-dimensional shadow creatures that feed on negative human emotions” you explain pulling out your magical weapon in the shape of an axe, you close an eye and aim while biting your tongue before throwing it to hit said shadowmite clinging to his shoulder. The creature gives out a cry, before dissipating into a melting puddle of inky black sizzling liquid, he stares down now seemingly more intrigued. “I don’t deal with robberies or anything besides those things and the occasional helping someone. Plus I’m decent friends with a few villains of the city”

“I’ve been trying to kill that thing for ages…” he pauses whisky looking down at the creature. Teekl hisses at the disappearing remnants of the creature. “How come your able to destroy them?”

“Only magic from their realm can kill them, I’m the only one with access to it ”

For a long moment the witch boy goes quiet, staring at the spot the puddle used to be. He turns his face to you once more, a smile on his face. “I think I like you Magic girl. Your more interesting than I thought.” He says this so suddenly that your left a bit baffled yet you give him a thumbs up. This seems to make him more amused as a portal opens beneath him, “I’ll be in touch”. With that he left

As he said Klarion would appear to you a few nights later on your lunch break during patrol

Quite literally appearing from nowhere as he laid down kicking his legs back and forth

Along with stealing some of your fries

You had to resist the urge from stopping him from stealing your food, it was still hard getting used to having an abundance of food now

There was no more scraping together to afford cup ramen from the 711 cashier who’d pretend not to notice the missing 50 cents

No more going to go to bed hungry because of the free lunch program at Gotham academy and reasoning you’d save your scraps for dinner the next day

No more barely scraping by just to survive

But never truly live though, surving was different to truly living

You couldn’t call your much of life before your adoption as living

The only moments you did truly feel alive was when you’d save someone or watch old reruns of sailor moon or cardcaptor sakura

Forever dreaming to be a better hero like them

To be a pretty sailor scout who saved the day despite being scared

To be able to enjoy something as mundane as skating on roller blades without potentially being mugged

Though your trying to get used to having free time

Having a Better sleeping schedules

Having Food

And having free time

It’s still feels odd

Still is weird to finally have time to yourself with nothing to fill it with

Even like now on your break during patrol you don’t know how to spend it

But now at least you have more company to fill that uncertainty of what to do

Curiously Klarion eyes your weapon, before finally speaking aloud

For awhile he asks mostly about your abilities

The extent of your power and what type of magic you could do

Showing him your weapon and transformation seems to cause him more questions

Especially since he mumbles to himself about your magic being different to anything he’s seen

As a lord of chaos it was safe to say he was adverse to almost all types of magic there was to offer

So seeing something this new and odd after millenniums of years of being alive is certainly a sight

He even says so to your face

Which brings up the question to you, after so long he’s still a kid?

You get that he probably ages slower than most, almost all magical creatures or people did

But after so long he was still a kid?

You can’t say you relate

You grew up too fast

But maybe that’s why your equally intrigued by the horned boy

You begin to notice that at some point he began to watch you from afar during missions

Sometimes from a rooftop

Other times it’s from an alleyway

Klarion watches and you always find yourself waving to him

But as time goes on he gets closer

Even if Damien or Jason tag along with you

But neither seem to notice him

No one but yourself ever does even if in a crowd of people he’d be someone they’d be fleeing from

Definitely some sort of magic stuff

Or maybe he was just oddly good at blending in

Either way you see him and wave and he gets closer each time

As does his vists during your break where he asks you questions of your magic

Your abilities

What the shadowmites are and what their goals are?

Are they fully sentient?

Their all things that you answer him as best you can, now bringing extra food for him so he didn’t steal from you anymore

Yet despite that he always steals a fry

Probably something he finds funny and something you find yourself less anxious about now

In a lot of ways he reminds you of a cat which is funny considering his familiar

He watched from a distance before getting closer and closer as time went on

Mischievous and sometimes a bit spiteful but with a playful edge like a cat pushing something off a shelf with fluffy claws

Positive interaction usually being something that pushes him farther away at first but now gravitates him closer

It’s odd

He’s odd

But so are you

A lord of chaos and a magical girl definitely weren’t titles that upheld the pillars of normality

So it’s perhaps not odd either of you are the way you are

And yet it draws you both closer like magnets all the same

Meetings get more frequent

As do more topics of much more mundane things being brought up

He asks you about human things he doesn’t understand, questions he’d feel to embarrassed to ask any of his “allies” due to not wanting to be written off as an oblivious kid

Because for as much as Klarion tries to be taken seriously he’s still subtly looked down upon

His chaos seen as little more than that of a child being given godly power to wield at his command

But over your talks you come to see there’s much more to it all

Lords of chaos function differently to humans both physically, emotionally and mentally

What was seen as mindless abject chaos to others was an art form and way of living and expression to them

A means to express and delight in the non-orderly nature of the universe, to live not constricted to the boundaries of reality itself

Constructing a landscape of Picasso paintings come to life or making a smiley face by moving the stars out of their places in their solar systems are a sort of expression to him

They viewed the universe as their canvas

That could be both good and bad in various ways

It’s the same in the fact too much order could be bad

Because chaos and order are a revolving door that need one another

They weren’t objectively good or bad, just neutral in nature until the scales tipped too much in one direction

Because complete anarchy is objectively terrible but so it a totalitarian police state

Both are bad in different ways because the scales are unbalanced

And now he’s left one of the last of his kind, for better or worse

And he’s a lot more lonely than he’d like to admit

Because he’s surrounded in a sea of beings too unfamiliar to his own

Orderly creatures in an orderly society in an orderly world and in an orderly universe or at least that’s how it feels to him

Human bodies function in certain predicable patterns as do the ways their societies work. Cogs and Gears working orderly in a intricate machine

And that makes it all the more confusing and alien to him in a bad way

But you can understand feeling alike to society even if you are human

So you try your best to explain to him

And even if at times he still seems confused he seems appreciative that you try

That you don’t seem to look down on him for not understanding humans and how humanity works as a whole

Because how can anyone assume that he would when he’s a lord of chaos

It’s literally in the name

And from then on it grows

The interest beyond the supernatural to the mundane

You show him the little things in life

Taking him in disguise to your favourite hotdog stand on a corner of a dodgy street down to walking him around Gotham and almost getting shanked along the way

All the while you show him that humanity is quite as orderly as he thought

He sees graffiti sprayed on brick walls, tags of neon colour of names that people try to scrub off but stubbornly and triumphantly remain

A person in odd dress on the street corner waiting for a bus, the way in which their clothes don’t mesh at all and the colour clash but they wear it anyways in style

The little shortcuts you take him to through alleyways and through abandoned buildings still standing to the test of time.

By his smile you think he comes to appreciate it all

The small signs that the machine he assumed humanity to be wasn’t just that

Cogs and gears too big or too small, bringing a bit of chaos in their wake

He knows your identity, you’ve known that he’s known for a long while now, and yet for some reason you trust him with it

Just as he trusts you to treat him all the same while in his true form

Blue skin, red eyes and all

And he’s seen you too

The girl behind the dramatic cutesy clothes, magically changing eyes, hair, face and height

You were just you

Klarion was just Klarion

And Tekyl and Rigel tagging along with it all

But to be honest you’d never thought he’d trust you enough for this

Whats this exactly? Oh well just him dragging you along to a meeting the Light was having as his quote on quote “human translator”

Aka explaining to him human things he didn’t understand

Aka him just wanting you there to sit with him for the duration of said meeting

Your not sure how this happened

Neither is any other member except the old man your pretty sure is Damien’s assassin grandfather

You can tell by the pointed emerald green eyes, similarly deathly composed demeanour and the same look of surprised/somehow impressed he gives you similar to when Damien sees half the shit you deal with

Speaking of which you’ll need to get him on board with Klarion to have another member for clue night

But that was a later issue

The real issue was right now

Klarion arguing with half the people here as you stand there more exasperated than anything

The witch boy occasionally shaking you by the shoulders…and climbing on you hissing and swiping at people who got too close

You see why a demon cat is his familiar

But even Teykl seemed a bit annoyed by his behaviour by how she rolled their eyes

Didn’t know cats could do that but hey, teykl’s also a demon cat so there’s probably a lot she can do compared to regular cats

Just as cute, but more lethal though instead of just getting a quick swipe at your hand

A door opens, a new contender for the fight

Though luckily (or unluckily for you) it’s Deathstroke

Instinctively you wave

And that pauses the fight

“Hey, how was that job abroad? I haven’t seen any dictators dead yet”

“You’ll be seeing it in the news soon, but what are you doing here?”

“Klarion brought me”

“Ah”

“You have a shadowmite on your shoulder, hold on, lemme get get it for you” and with that you transform you magical weapon, sparkles fly as a bright light momentarily flashes the room. In your hands was a battle axe, pink with bows and ribbons flowing as you chuck it at the invisible creature now made visible on Slade’s shoulder when the blade imbeds itself into the things flesh. It screeches reaching a shadowy hand as it’s pinned to the wall, prying your axe from the wall it falls to the floor but can’t get free as you hold it down beneath your foot. There’s no last words for the creature, just hungry screaming for its next victim until the axe comes down on its head severing the tie from this world.

The room is silent for a few moments, “you could’ve killed it with just the throw if you aimed a bit more to the left. Besides that you had good form”

You get to sit between both Klarion and Slade for the meeting

Somehow you doing your hero job impressed (more like terrified) this group of villains

Maybe it was manifesting your weapon from thin air within the blink of an eye

Maybe the fact you threw it at Mach 1

Maybe it was the fact that you could’ve summoned it at any time, make it any weapon you wanted including a bazooka at will

Or maybe it was learning your keeping the literal universe from being eaten on a daily basis from inter-dimensional shadow creatures who’ve eaten countless realities already

Fun thing to explain to such a diverse group ranging from a evil billionaire, a dictator and two immortal men who were older than dirt

The entire meeting you end up keeping Klarion from impulsively deciding to leave because he found it boring and drawn out

To be fair to him it definitely was, but how he’s gotten away with disappearing 30 minutes in each time was beyond you

So somehow you do the impossible

He stays the duration of the full meeting

It’s a first for everyone

What’s also a first is that Tekyl hasn’t gone off and scratched some unfortunate members leg like a scratching post

Mostly because she stayed perched in your lap along with Rigel

Later on when hanging out with Klarion on a roof your not surprised when he mentions that you’ve been offered a “partial membership”

He laughs and burns the letter for you

You’d think that the meeting between Damien and Klarion wouldn’t go well

And you’d be mostly right

At least until Damien spotted Tekyl on klarions shoulder and somehow the two ended up talking about things

And looking past the being a hero and being an super villain they got along well

Well enough that your now slightly worried for anyone who sent you weird messages online again

Because now they’ll have to deal with Tim giving these two their up address

But beyond that you feel bad for Bruce

Because dear god when he finds out Damien invited the lord of chaos to movie night

Jason was gonna love him

Your iffy about Tim but you know Dick is gonna practically wedge himself into the three of you hanging out before Damine threatens him or Klarion sends him halfway across the world or something

Besides all of that though your happy he gets along with Damien

That he has another human friend

Your also proud of Damien as well

Though you do wish he’d stop giving Klarion new ideas for his schemes

Showing him MLP wants a good idea when the character of discord existed

Yeah he had a field day when he was introduced

Chocolate rain and literal actual cotton candy clouds had a lot more of an environmental impact than shown in the kids show

Thankfully it was only the UK that suffered the side effects

And a very pissed off John Constantine

At some point you and Damien begin to sneak him into the manor

Somehow Alfred knew and can only smile and warn the lord of chaos to turn things back to normal before he leaves

And so the fun begins

Damien shows him his swords collection and bat cow

You end up binging madoka magica with him and your collection of magical girl figures

He ends up showing you and Damien some of his magic

And the infinite pillow fort in the corner of your room is born

It literally goes on forever…you think

Is there an end? You don’t know, but all you do know is that at some point you went in there and emerged 7 hours later still not reaching the end

Kinda like the backrooms but with less monsters and piss stained looked walls and carpet but instead with pastel pillows and my melody and kuromi merch scattered around

Now having permission to appear in the manor, or at least in yours or Damien’s rooms he sometimes appears at odd hours of the night

Like you’ll wake up at 4 am and find him hanging out in your room

Sometimes resting in a corner quietly with Tykl

Other times just poking around your room with curiosity, examine various nick knacks you have

Photographs and poosters

High class Jewelry and handmade bracelets

Old magical girl shows on equally old cds and the new HD releases on blue-ray

Books that were yellowed and brand new ones piled on a shelf

He admires them all

Turning them over in his blue palms or tracing them fondly with a pointed finger

He sees the wear and tear in the old and the loving upkeep behind it all

The new items that you gratefully covet like the old

There’s an unexpected and uncharacteristic fragility to his actions

A certain look in his eyes that faulted under the weight of your own once he realizes your awake

In which he then finds himself sitting at your side

Crossing his legs and pretending to stare at nothing in particular

Though you see his gaze occasionally flicker from your window showing the Gotham night and then back to you

It continues like this until you take his hand and get up from bed

Dragging him through the darkened halls

Depending on the night schedule of that particular day sometimes the two of you go to the gardens

Sitting down on the marble benches to listen to the calming sound of water flowing from the fountain

His hands shifting and turning to create illusionary magic

A rabbit hopping through the air in streams of starlight

Like the white rabbit of Alice in wonderland, then slowly leading you to the land of dreams

The next morning you wake up in your bed as if nothing happened

The only proof of the night before being the flower crown he made for you to match the one you made him still on your head

Woven in messy hair

Other times you show him to the library but not before a small detour to the kitchen

Taking the secret stash of Alfred’s beloved cookies to snack on as you read together by the fire

Your duvet blanket wrapped around the two of you and was dragged halfway across the mansion floor

Surely leaving a small trail of feathers in its wake that’ll lead Alfred to you in the morning

And depending on if Damien is there that night you go to knock on his door

Your brother in everything but blood opening his door and inviting the two of you in

Thankfully Damien’s bed was renovated to be big enough to fit him and his pets

So the three of you can laze on it comfortably without being pressed for space

Sometimes a board game is pulled out

Other times you all just talking until passing out

And sometimes when you fall asleep first both he and Damien talk heart to heart

About what exactly your not privy to

But your just happy both get along so well after the bumpy meeting

Sometimes Bruce calls you along with the justice league if they need your help with him

Honestly it’s flattering and funny at the same time

You can’t help but feel a bit bad for his teammates who see your pastels and instantly known that Klarion is gonna pull out the battle in an instant

He used to complain about it

But now the minute you show up and politely chid him for nearly exploding a building he snaps his fingers and things are back to normal

And then he teleports you away to hang out as per usual

Is this usual to everyone but yourself and him and maybe Damien? Highly

But do you care? Not exactly when you have a friend

And also end up helping Bruce/dad

To be honest your still unused to calling him dad yet

You definitely view him as your dad, he’s been the only one besides Rigel to fill that role

But it’s weird saying it aloud

Of carving it in stone

Putting it to paper

Saying how you feel and being emotionally intimate when you’d built up walls and barriers

Opening up is still hard for you, even after various times you had let people in

You’d think it would get easier to open the gate around your heart but there’s always a hint of hesitation each time

Like a twitch in your fingers

A whisper in your mind

Because you care for people

You care about your new family, your friends, Klarion included

And it’s hard each time to feel the guilt of hesitation

Because it isn’t them but it’s you

You feel it now as you sit atop the top of Gotham

Watching the skyline as the cool air blows past

You wish to be open

To speak your mind and break down the walls but it feels so hard in the moment

So odd showing your hand

The cards up your sleeve

Opening the always shut door

How do you even introduce that? Hey here’s my heartfelt feelings

Each time you’ve done it beforehand it’s felt so awkward

So weird starting off

And then you get emotional

And start getting teary eyed and people ask if your ok and that makes you break-

Klarion is the one who starts first

It comes from nowhere, like a sudden burst of chaos that makes sense for him and a surprise for you

He explains to you that “when I gaze at you i see mortality incarnate”

Something that will last moments to him in his life yet will haunt him for the rest of eternity

Like a glass doll that will inevitably break and yet in its fragility holds incomprehensible beauty

A blazing fire that’ll eventually burn out yet it’s gentle warmth lingers

A memory never forgotten and always there even if the moments is long gone

He’s lived so long and will continue to live even when your long gone

He’s similar to Rigel in that regard

Something and someone so consequential that they’ll last millions of years

You’d only become important from chance compared to him and many others

They were born great, with powers or had qualities that made them special

You became a magical girl because Rigel picked you by chance (or at least that’s how you felt)

And yet here’s a lord of chaos, an god in almost human form saying you were important

That you were special besides your powers

He explains to you that he’s met many magic users

Some competent others masters

Yet none were like you

But what was initial the thing that drew him in didn’t matter

One day he would’ve forgot, it would’ve faded from his chaos filled brain eventually

But what remains is you

Not the magic, the thing that made you special

But you

Just you at your most plain and simple

It wasn’t the magical girl who saves Gotham from an invisible force that not even he could fight

Not the frills and magical transformations or weapons

Not the limited magical abilities that could make you level a building easily

It was just you

All the times you’d shown him through the streets of Gotham

The willingness to explain to him concepts of humanity he didn’t understand

The kindness in your gaze when he shows you his true form without a hint of apprehension

“And it’s there” he says that he comes to value you for all your worth, humans for all their worth

Because despite their fate set in stone

The fact that they can die so easily compared to just about everything in the galaxy

Despite it all they shine the brightest somehow

Because beings like himself have hundreds of millions of years to do something with their lives

To shine slowly and at a snails pace becomes stars

But humans with their short lives make the most of it all

They may die but in those terminally short years to others in this large universe they become a supernova

And their impact is heard and felt across time and space itself

Because sometimes despite it all an ant can move a mountain and that’s a whole lot more impressive than when a god does it

And an ant doing it will always be more impactful when it knows that at the end it’ll die moving that mountain

But does it anyways

“This…may be be a weird question but in a hundred years when I’m dead and gone…will you remember me?” You ask this in a moment of fragility, looking up to the smoggy night sky. Distantly you see the small glimmer of starlight hundreds of millions of lightyears away behind the pollution. “Even if I’m a blip in the grand scheme of things”

Klarion looks to those same stars, with a swipe of his hand the sky clears. For the first time in a hundred years Gotham sees the natural night sky. The dark navy blue of midnight and the hundreds of thousands of speckles of light dot the sky. “I will, somehow you humans make longer impacts than any creature I’ve ever met. For better or worse” it’s spoken in sincerity as he looks with you at the night, and distantly he chooses a star and decides that it’s you. A star he’ll one day look at when your dead and gone, a star that might already be dead and fizzled out and yet its light and impact still crosses the galaxy hundreds of thousands of years later to still shine, to still meet his eyes in the infinite dark if night.

A star that he would nurture and protect

To keep its light from going out

A star that one day he’ll clutch closely as the universe comes to a close from natural causes or the ravenous mouths of the creatures you fight

He says his piece and opens the way to say your own.

#dc x reader #klarion x reader #klarion the witch boy #dc klarion #klarion bleak #magical girl y/n

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slasherflicks999 · 5 days ago

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new oc/sona yaaaaaay!

oh how i wish i had all those piercings (bridge come back to me💔)

can we guess where his name came from gang (suspiciously username shaped name)

i actually really enjoy his character design and i literally color picked his color pallet from a diagram(?) that shows how a bruise heals and it worked out LMAOO sooo new character design life hack

more info and lots of general yapping about him after the break if you care to read :3 and i yap a LOT i have lots to say about him bc its been a while since i genuinely developed an oc LMAO

cw for LOTS and LOTS of talk of death if you do decide to read! just in case :3

first of all you may be thinking “5’6? short king!” and i will have you know i actually made him taller than i am irl by a few inches LMAOOO whoops t boy swag will do that to ya

anyways the thing about his color pallet being based off of that of a literal bruise IS actually relevant because he is literally immortal and is CONSTANTLY getting injured like all the time. i think conveying info about characters via their color pallets is fun and i wanna do more of it so hehe. plus green and red and purple are a nice combo and it worked out very well :3 also another little note about his design: he’s a very creative and artistic person and i wanted to show that through his clothes being somehow modified and i think i did that well too. trying to properly get back into making actually decent and thoughtful character designs so im proud of myself :3

that being said his immortality causes him a SHIT load of problems. i feel like being immortal would really suck LMAO but more-so i feel like i dont see people do much with the idea of immortality in terms of horror or at least not from what i’ve seen. like im still figuring out his lore but the basics are: he has no clue who his dad is and found out he was immortal at a somewhat young age but literally his entire life he’s been viewed as just kind of off?? like he looks human and for the most part acts it but he just has certain traits that humans…. do not have. his eyes glow in pics like a nocturnal animal’s would and his teeth are suspiciously sharp and he gets weird cravings for raw meat which he can somehow digest perfectly fine with absolutely no issue but he’s not like OVERTLY some otherworldly creature he’s just a little weird. a tad strange even. possibly even kind of unsettling depending on who you ask.

and i like to imagine these are a lot of things that were present in his childhood too, like his mother would wake up to the sound of rummaging in the kitchen and find him at the ripe old age of five just gnawing at a whole raw steak in the dark. he’s just sort of always been like that and didn’t realize it was weird until he was older. (is a lot of this used as metaphors for undiagnosed neurodiversity/mental illness? …..iii dont knowwww :3 (yes) (although not every aspect of him is a total reflection of myself, he is still his own character in many respects lolol))

but in general this ends up causing him all sorts of issues in all sorts of millions of ways. for one he has sort of a fragile sense of self because he doesn’t even know what he is?? he knows he can’t just be a regular old human because of all the previously mentioned reasons and a few more, but that aside he has no idea what he is. he also doesn’t know pretty much anything about how his immortality works beyond what he’s experienced and what the others have told him during the times when he’s “dead,” he has no idea how his aging is affected by it because he seems to be aging relatively normally so far, he has no clue if he will EVER die for good/if there’s any way to kill him, he has no idea how his body seems to heal the most insane fatal injuries as if nothing happened, and much more quickly than a normal human would, he kinda doesn’t know jack shit about himself and it pisses him off a little bit!

it also has just caused him lots of trauma as you can probably imagine. lots of dissociation everywhere he looks

moving on to how his immortality actually works: like i said there’s only so much he knows about it but this is all the info he knows so far. he CAN “die” but all of his deaths are temporary. that is to say that his body will eventually heal and regenerate itself and he will come back. it’s not like deadpool where he can get stabbed in the head and go about the rest of his day like nothing happened, he might be able to keep himself up for a while to fight back or run away but it wont be long before he drops dead for a few days or so. during said time his body outwardly does seem very dead. he’s unresponsive and still and isn’t blinking or nothing and his pupils are blown (which he already has huge pupils but yk), like if you were to just show him to someone they’d be like “yeah that’s absolutely a corpse and also why would you show this to me.” but his body is still alive in a sense, it’s just sort of… yknow when you put a computer into sleep mode?? upon first glance it’s gonna look like it’s off but inwardly things are still going on. his body is still working to regenerate itself the whole time, even if whatever he sustained that “killed” him would very much not be healable or survivable by any normal person. in his POV, he just sort of gets knocked out for a while and then wakes up exhausted and sore and absolutely FAMISHED. like he could easily eat a horse without any exaggeration the boy can eat.

he’s also always been interested in horror and the supernatural and crime and shit and is largely desensitized to that sort of stuff from that + experiencing a lot of different deaths himself bc of the whole immortality thing paired with him being generally reckless when he was younger because what’s it gonna do? kill him? (“what’re you gonna do, jeff the kill me?” -him at jeff moments before being stabbed, probably) he says he doesn’t care but it actually effects him deeply in ways he doesn’t understand for a while. as he gets older he becomes less reckless and doesn’t throw himself into dangerous situations as often.

all that being said he’s not necessarily all that dangerous himself?? he carries his dagger around with him for protection or cutting up meat and apples or woodcarving more than anything and as a proxy he works a lot more as just an… observer. despite his name he’s not really all for the killing people stuff if he can help it unlike many of the others, if anything his name more so refers to the fact that HE’S usually the one getting slashed up. (it’s actually just bc of my username but shhhhhh) but generally he much prefers to be in the background keeping watch or scoping things out or just sort of… stalking people basically. dont ask me how he manages to be stealthy in THAT outfit… he manages somehow i swear 😔

but yknow overall he’s not an incredible threat to most people, the “creepy” part of him being a creepypasta comes a lot more just from how much it would suck to be in his shoes as just a guy who happens to be immortal but still able to experience the pain of death over and over again. he isn’t the creepy thing as much as his entire life experience is LOL. usually he’s just unsettling and disturbing at most.

he also has a VERY complex relationship with BEN in my AU specifically (WHICH RANDOM DISCLAIMER TIME: NOT THE LITTLE 12 YEAR OLD VERSION NOOOOO EW my au’s BEN is like a combo of “fanon” him and behavioral event network he is not 12 years old and i dont want him being shipped with anything NEAR that version of him, ONLY my AU’s version who is 19. im not a freak. 💔 they’re not a couple anyway (BEN🤝slasher -> being aro) but i did wanna preface that just in case bc im not trying to get misinterpreted like that) might write more about that sometime… bc their relationship has a lot of symbolism and complexity bc BEN is my fav character ever period and yes i am gonna write him and my self insert oc as being incredibly deeply intertwined bc i love him and cringe culture can kick rocks and therapy is difficult to get :3 oc x canon shippers platonic or romantic yall will always be safe on my blog frfr

im gonna post more about BEN soon too…. literally working on actually making a proper design for him rn which is mostly just difficult bc i cannot for the life of me think of what to give this freak to wear. i need them to serve cunt but like….. how do i do that 💔💔 that one BEN design i reblogged that gave him the adorable little heels….. absolutely genius………. u know who u are :3

more random rapid fire fun facts about him bc why not: he loves piercings and tattoos and body mods bc they heal so easily for him, he has his tongue split! (NEEEED to do one day actually my dream body mod), his immortality doesn’t seem to effect his ability to get sick which he HATES but when he does get sick it only lasts for a day or so and he’s a total drama queen the whole time, he loves to sew (though only by hand, he’s genuinely afraid of sewing machines) and will patch up or modify clothes for his friends or other proxies if they ask, his favorite kind of raw meat is boar, and his favorite cooked meat is a tie between pork (boar or domestic pig) and chicken, he wears his headphones most of the time bc he loves music and sounds can sometimes overstimulate him, and BEN can talk to him through them because of course he can, he loves animals and actually has way more empathy for them than for humans, and he absolutely LOVES medical dramas and does not care that a lot of the actual medical parts are inaccurate he will eat them up. he WILL be caught staying up until 6am watching chicago med and he will not apologize.

ANYWAY i think that’s about it actually. if anyone actually read all my ramblings…. i love u /p u mean very much to me /p

i WILL be yapping more soon (except probably about the actual “canon” pastas hehe) :3

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familyvideostevie · 1 year ago

Text

a kind of hunger | chapter 1

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

joel miller walks into your life just as it starts to fall apart. surely some hot nights with the bar's newest regular can't hurt, right?

length: 9.2k

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, slightly painful sex, dirty talk, size kink if you squint, joel is a liiiiiiiitle mean if you squint, general feelings of loneliness and angst from r in her free time

a/n: huge thank you to @strangerfreaks without whom this would never have gotten off the ground. also to all the joel writers on this site, i love you, i am in awe of you. please allow me to give it a go myself <3

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

The first time you sleep with Joel Miller you know it won't be the last.

But that's not where this story starts.

It starts in a bar. Nothing special about it, really. Staffed half by college kids who come and go, half by drifters who, for some reason, stopped drifting once they found this dimly lit, sticky-floored hole in the wall. Not quite a local institution but not forgettable, never totally empty. It's got pool tables and a jukebox but also clean bathrooms aside from the graffiti and two new-ish TVs showing whatever the first guy who gets there wants to watch.

Point is, you work there. One of those drifters who stopped drifting. The guy who owns it, some crotchety old fuck called Bill, rents you the apartment above the bar for a decent price considering it's loud until 2am on the weekends and midnight all the other days. Loud enough that even on nights you don't work it feels like you're there anyway. But you get used to it. It's called Frank's, which you don't totally understand, but you're not about to ask questions of the guy who has finally allowed you to slow down and take a breath who is also your boss and landlord.

You've worked there long enough to have learned the names and orders of all the regulars who've been coming in since long before you walked through the door and to have seen some new regulars enter the rotation. In truth, you've worked there long enough to basically be running the place. It's still the bar in your head, not your bar because getting attached will do you no good. This is how it always goes: you care too much but it never seems like anyone cares back. You cut and run before you can be disappointed and you’ve already been here longer than you’d expected to be because it’s something close to comfortable.

Almost no one messes with you despite being younger than most of the clientele and on the off chance some frat boy from the city decides to take a cheap shot you've got a small army of imposing customers on your side. Between them and your coworkers, it's almost like you're not alone.

Almost.

The hours you spend away from the bar are spent alone. You don't have many numbers in your phone and the ones you do you don't call. You go on drives in the shitty truck you bought off some guy when you moved here. You browse used bookstores and suffer the heat of the day on long walks and wonder if this is all there is. You think of what it might be like to feel something other than rootless.

One thing that helps is…sex. Being close to someone for even a little while, letting yourself be seen in a way that doesn’t require you to totally show your hand. You try not to make a habit of actually fucking your clientele. It can get messy quickly, guys coming in and expecting more than a good pour. Being offended when you don't give them a free round, don't make eyes at them over the oiled wood. It's easier to be alone, that much you've learned. It's easier and it's simpler and it means you've only got yourself to blame for the hurt you sometimes feel laying in bed, staring at the ceiling as some rock song thrums up through the floor.

And if you do fuck someone from the bar, you keep it simple. You do, however, try really hard not to sleep with regulars. And no staying over. A classic, unspoken rule of sleeping with strangers that you rarely verbalize but make sure to enforce every time. It keeps things neat. The last thing you need is mess. Who knows how long you'll stay in this town, in this little apartment and this shitty bar. You've got a lot of years left, a lot of years you should probably spend in classrooms or an office or falling in love with some nice guy with a nice family who can give you a nice life.

But you're here.

And then, one day, so is Joel.

Being a good bartender is memorization, paying attention, and keeping a level head. You know how to make pretty much any drink even though your regulars are mostly the simple beer or Jack and Coke kind of people. You swear you can tell when a glass is going to fall a second before it shatters, spot a punch before it can be thrown. So you notice when a man you've never seen before walks through the door.

You notice how the energy of the room changes, how multiple pairs of eyes follow him as he settles at the end of the half-full bar. Dark hair shot through with grey, green shirt rolled up over chorded forearms that he rests on the wood. It feels like you should know him but you don't. You've never seen him before.

You finish pouring beers for some giggly girls before making your way over to him. His eyes track you.

You wonder what he'll order. A shot, maybe, based on the tense line of his shoulders. Or a dark beer. Maybe something strong. You hope he won't be one of those guys you have to peel off the bar in a few hours. "Can I get you something?"

"Whiskey, rocks," he says. You can hear the Texas drawl even from so few words. Deep, low, measured. "Cheapest you got."

For some reason, it feels like he's returning and you're the new one. "Wanna start a tab?"

"I'll do cash at the end," he says. Ah, one of those. Guy getting away from his wife, maybe. Tough day at work. Doesn't want to leave tracks. You can relate to that.

"Joel fuckin’ Miller," one of your regulars says as you turn to grab a glass. He claps the man -- Joel -- on the shoulder. "Heard you were back up this way," he says. "Good to see you, man."

Joel simply inclines his head once like he's not thrilled to be recognized. The dismissal is clear. And, weirdest of all, it works. You've seen insults hurled between friends for less.

You set his drink down, the amber liquid sloshing around the ice.

"Thanks," he mutters. The dismissal is...less clear, but you've got other customers to tend to. And Joel doesn't seem particularly chatty.

Your eyes return to him for the next hour or so but he never waves you over for another round. Heat trails up and down your spine and you have to tell yourself that he's not watching you. That would be too optimistic, right? At one point you take a bathroom break and when you're back he's gone, wrinkled bills stacked under the glass. Enough for his drink and a decent tip.

Joel comes in three more times over the next month before you sleep with him. Each time he orders the same drink, leaves the same tip. He sits alone at the bar, occasionally saying hello when someone approaches but no one ever sits next to him. He's gruff but only ever polite to you, doesn't get impatient when it takes you a minute to get to him.

And he's really something to look at. The tick in his jaw, the veins in his neck. His skin is tanned, dotted with small scars that must come from a lifetime of hard work. He wears a watch and jeans that hug his ass in an almost indecent way, a way that has you watching him when he's not on a stool. Sometimes you catch him smirking to himself when there's some shit going on at the bar, gossip or people being loud for no reason. You wonder what his laugh sounds like and scold yourself for it. No harm in looking but there's the possibility of harm in thinking too much. You know better.

The third time he comes in is a bad night. It's busy for some reason and everyone is a fucking asshole. You weren't even supposed to work tonight but one of the seasonal kids had banged on your door begging you to come help, promising you all the tips for tonight if you did. You knew it would make you look good to Bill and despite yourself, you didn’t want to leave them hanging, so here you are, sweaty and pissed and smelling like beer, doing your best to empty the dishwasher in between drink orders and praying the keg doesn't need changing.

You don't even notice when Joel comes in, only spotting him once he's managed to scare some college kid from a seat at the bar. For some reason, his presence makes you a little calmer in the chaos.

"Be with you in a sec, Joel," you say to him when you're near. You don't call him by his name since he never actually introduced himself to you but it slips out in the rush. His nostrils flare but you don't have time to linger on it even as you feel the hot weight of his gaze.

"No rush."

You manage to get him what you know by now to be his usual only to be called over by your least favorite customer of the night as soon as he's thanked you.

"Honey," the asshole says. This fucker's name is Seth and he's a pain in your ass. "Gimme another, will you? Make it a heavy pour." This would be his fifth and he's already slurring his words.

"Don't think so," you tell him firmly. "I'm cutting you off for tonight, Seth." He's liable to start some shit or at the very least throw up on the floor and you don't want to deal with either. You don't have time to deal with either.

His bloodshot eyes narrow and he slams a fist on the bar. You manage not to flinch, though pretty much everyone else does. "That's not good fucking service, sweetcheeks," he leers.

"Good thing I don't give a fuck," you snap. "Get the fuck out of here before you do something you regret, sweetcheeks.” The venom in your tone seems to surprise him before sheer rage takes over. You've thrown out plenty of assholes in your time here but it's not always a smooth experience.

Seth leans forward over the bar, reaches for you -- to do what, you have no idea -- and you prepare yourself to yell for backup and then kick him out for good and maybe get a punch in as he goes. His fingers manage to hook in your shirtsleeve before a hand closes around his wrist.

Before Seth can scream he's got his outstretched arm behind his back, face twisted in pain. Behind him is --

Joel?

The bar is almost silent. You can hear a few whispers over the blood pumping in your ears.

"I'd get out of here if I were you," Joel hisses. He glances at you, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Are you okay? he seems to be asking. You nod.

Seth whimpers. "Let me go," he says weakly.

"Just gonna show you the door." Joel all but drags him through the parting crowd.

"Jesus," someone says behind you. One of the seasonal kids. "You okay?"

"I'm taking my break." You leave the kid behind the bar to fend for himself and barrel into the back and through the side door into the alley where you always take your 15. It's one of those weird cold fall nights, just the wrong side of chilly to be here without a jacket but you left it in the bar office.

The milk carton you sit on has been turned over so you kick it back with a thud and slump down onto it. The light above the door flickers. "This shit is getting old," you say to no one. You kick aside cigarette butts that aren't yours and wonder how long you can do this. What would be next, anyway? You've got a laundry list of failed dreams and no one wondering if you're going to make something of yourself. Long nights at a bar you care about more than you should and rowdy customers and handsome men who barely say a word to you can't last forever, can it? Would anyone here even notice if you left?

The door flies open, startling you out of your thoughts.

Joel steps into the alley. Somehow he manages to yet again look like he was meant to be here and you're the one who is out of place. You blink at him and he stares back like he wasn't sure he'd find you here.

"Got lost?" you ask. "Pretty sure you know where the front door is."

He lets the metal door swing shut and crosses his arms. "Was lookin' for you."

That catches you by surprise. "Why?"

Joel shrugs, a small lift of his shoulders. His expression doesn't budge. "Sorry for makin' trouble."

Oh, right. Seth. You wave him off. "Just another night," you say. "I'd have handled it." You stand from the crate and lean against the brick wall. It's true. Seth isn't the first asshole you've handled.

"I bet you would've," Joel mutters. He takes one step closer. You're reminded all at once how good-looking he is, how you've wondered what his hands would feel like on your skin. There's no way he's ever thought of you, right? You're just some girl who pours him drinks, too young and too forgettable. He was just having a man moment, wanting to save the day or some shit like that.

"I don't have a cigarette or anything if you want to smoke," you say. This close he doesn't smell like tobacco but you don't know what else to say. "Sorry."

"So you just sit in alleys on your break for fun?"

"I like this alley," you say, suddenly a bit defensive. "It's a nice alley." You take a step towards him. He uncrosses his arms and his hands flex at his sides. You shiver. "No one bothers me out here."

Joel tilts his head to the side. "That so?" His eyes are dark under the dim light. When did he get so close? When did your face get so hot?

"Except guys who drink whiskey on the rocks, I guess," you say. It comes out much softer than you'd like, your voice cracking. The air doesn't have the same bite as it did seconds ago. Joel's expression hovers between something you recognize and something you don't, something you desperately want to figure out. "Good thing I don't mind." The adrenaline from the small altercation hasn't left and the swirl of emotions about your whole shitty life has you on edge, has you wanting to play with fire.

You're so close now that you can feel his breath on your face, feel the heat of him in the still night. Joel's eyes rake over your face, looking for something, something you try very hard to show him so that he might fucking do it, meet the want that is suddenly uncontrollable halfway, or at least tell you if he's not interested so you can --

Your name is a groan in his throat and then he's kissing you. His palm cups the back of your head as he presses you into the wall, his other hand firm on your hip, fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt hard enough to bruise. He tastes like the whiskey you served him. You fist one hand in his collar and wind the other into his hair.

Joel controls the kiss but you give as good as you get. He licks into your mouth and you suck on his lower lip. His beard rubs against your face in a delicious burn and when you tug on his hair he makes a noise you must hear again. The brick behind you scrapes a bit but you hardly notice when he presses against you, slides a thigh between your legs and you feel him hard through his jeans.

"S'not right, you lookin' so good yellin' at that asshole," he grumbles into your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. You cant your hips and he hisses.

"Speak for yourself," you manage. "Always got your eyes on me, don't you?" It feels like a risk to call him on it. Control of the situation is slipping from your grasp, this man who you never thought would actually touch you now holding you in his arms, his lips on your skin. He pulls back from your neck and smirks, eyes dark.

"'Spose I do."

You can work with that. You surge forward to kiss him again and this time he lets you call the shots while still meeting your bruising caresses with his own.

"Joel." You tug on his hair.

He makes that noise again.

It might be five minutes, it might be an hour. You have no idea. All you know is you can still feel his cock through the denim and you're so turned on you might combust in this alley. Or at the very least let him fuck you in it.

"I don't close tonight," you pant. One of Joel's hands has worked its way into your back pocket and the other has rucked up your shirt to rest on your bare back.

"What?" he growls.

"My shift. I'm off at 11." You tap his watch. He glances at it and sees it read 10:30. "Half hour. I live upstairs."

For a second you think he'll say no. Walk away with a nod of his head and out of your life forever. Wouldn't be the first, wouldn't be the last. You're already breaking one of your rules by even considering sleeping with him but there's just something about him. The way he looks at you, the way his hands feel on your skin. You want to know what he'll feel like inside you. Maybe you’re still in this town because you were waiting for him to walk through the door.

"Alright," he says. He clears his throat and releases you. You fuss with your hair and straighten your shirt and he adjusts himself in his jeans. "Half hour." His dark eyes narrow as he glances down the alley back towards the street.

"Take a walk around the block or something," you tell him, swallowing the urge to laugh at him so handsome and disheveled from your hands. Never in a million years would you have predicted that tonight would go this way. "My door is on the other side of the building. I'll let you up."

The urge to flatten the damage your hands did to his hair is so overwhelming for a second that you step away from him towards the door. His eyes follow you, expression unreadable. How many nights would it take for you to know what he's thinking? Careful, you think, or you'll be tempted to find out.

Joel watches you until you give him a little wave and slip back into the bar. The metal door clangs shut behind you and you lean against it, knees still wobbly. Is this actually happening? Are you really this overwhelmed by making out with some guy in an alley? You check the clock on the wall and curse. Your break ended ten minutes ago though since no one came looking for you it's probably no big deal. Being mostly in charge has its perks.

The bar is a little less crowded than when you left so you grab a rag and start wiping down the bar. Joel's seat is empty, his glass gone.

"Oh, hey," the seasonal kid says. "That guy, uh, Joel? He said to make sure you get this." He pulls out Joel's usual tip from his apron and holds it out to you.

Considering you're planning to go upstairs and fuck him until you can't walk, you don't feel like taking his tip tonight. "It's yours," you say. "Thanks for handling everything while I was out back." The kid blinks at you but knows better than to refuse, pocketing the cash and going back to loading the dishwasher.

You finish your shift. Your blood feels electric, your skin hot. Can anyone in this bar tell what happened in the alley? You haven't felt this way about a hookup in ages. Like you were wanted, not just convenient. It's just one night, right? Maybe he'll never come to the bar again, which makes your chest tighten for a second. Maybe you're about to ruin something you don't totally understand. But you haven't gotten this far in life by worrying about shit like that, so you clock out and wave goodbye and make your way to the other side of the building.

Joel isn't there. You unlock the door to the stairwell so you can at least wait for him inside when you hear footsteps, the crunch of gravel under boots. You fist your key between your knuckles just in case but before you can turn around you hear your name in that Texas drawl.

"Just me," he says. You don't know if Joel Miller is capable of looking nervous but this is probably close. He shifts from one foot to the other, hands in his pockets. A thrill runs up your spine. Are you really doing this? Are you really about to bring this man up to your apartment and hope to god he does whatever you want to you?

"Come on up." Yes. Yes, you are. You give him a smile and he follows you up to the landing.

"S'loud," he mutters once you shut the door. The bar's music wasn't that loud when you were in it and up here it's a dull hum, people's voices and laughter slipping through the cracks like a TV left on a little too high in the other room. These days it's background noise to you but you figure Joel lives in a house somewhere with lots of land and open windows and silence. He seems like the type to like silence.

Jacket on the hook, shoes clumsily thrown on the mat, keys in the dish. Your normal routine except there’s a man in your living room, too. He looks around the space, hands still in his pockets. You try not to be self-conscious about your place. It's small, sure, the bedroom visible through the currently open French doors in the small living room. Your kitchen is tiny, bathroom tinier, but it's all yours. "You get used to it," you say. "I hardly mind it anymore."

"Didn't say I did," he says. You both stand there for a few moments before Joel takes two big steps and crowds you against the door, one hand on your hip and the other next to your head. "Means they won't hear us." You swallow a gasp as he drags his nose along the curve of your jaw, breath hot on your skin. You were going to ask him if you could shower first since you undoubtedly smell like sweat and beer but clearly, he doesn't mind. His tongue darts out and he sucks on your pulse point, your own hands clutching desperately at his shirt. If he moves you're sure you'll melt into a puddle on the floor. "Means you can be as loud as you want," he growls. "That sound good?"

Any breath remaining in your body rushes out and you jerk your hips to make contact with the hardness in his jeans. "Yeah," you gasp. You can feel something like a smile against your neck. "That sounds good."

It's a dynamic you don't mind stepping into -- whatever this is. Every second of your life you feel like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everyone around you to get tired. Your eyes are always on the exit, always wondering where you'll go next, what you'll leave behind this time. Even when you're fucking strangers you're always wondering how you'll get them to leave. You’re better off alone. But right here, right now, with Joel's heavy scent of sawdust and whiskey and something earthy, something grounding, in your nostrils, his hands and his mouth on you, nothing else matters. Your brain shuts off and you're just here.

You grab Joel's jaw and guide his lips back to yours. He allows it and you moan deep in your throat as he tongues back into your mouth, your own trying to give as good as you're getting. He pops the button on your jeans and you help him with frantic hands, shoving them down your hips along with your underwear so he can ghost his fingers through your coarse curls. He pulls back from the kiss to watch as he drags two fingers through your folds. Your eyes lock and he smirks as your lids flutter.

"Soaked," is all he says. You tip your head forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"Don't be smug."

He huffs. "I ain't trying to sound like an asshole, but --"

"Already failed." He nips at your earlobe.

"Gotta work you open a bit, sweetheart," he says. His fingers circle your clit once, ever so slowly. Your grip on his bicep tightens and you wonder if you'll leave bruises. You hope so. "Gonna be a tight fit."

"Heard -- fuck -- that before," you gasp. Joel really fucking knows what he's doing. "I -- bed?"

"Smart girl," he says. You're pretty sure you get wetter. He pulls his fingers free but keeps a hold on your hip like he knows your knees are jelly. "Sit on the edge."

You leave your jeans and underwear behind and make your way to the bed through the French doors, sitting heavily on the quilt, knees bent and leaning on your hands behind you. Before you can say another word, Joel lowers to his knees between yours. He pries them apart even further and runs his hands up and down your thighs.

For a few seconds, you can't find the words. This man, older than you and impossibly handsome, face lined with years he's lived and hands callused with work he's done, this man that you hardly know anything about but can't get out of your mind, is on his knees before you.

"You gonna be okay down there?" is what you come up with.

"You always talk this much?" he mutters, though his mouth tugs up at the corner. Joel's forearms wrap around your legs and he tugs. You fall flat on your back in surprise and your ass almost hangs off the bed. He draws one of your legs over his shoulder and kneads the flesh of your thigh, eyes dark and jaw twitching as he spreads you open and just looks. "Might have to help me up but I think I'll be just fine."

"Joel --"

The end of his name becomes a high-pitched moan when he leans in and buries his face in your cunt. He drags his tongue up and down through your folds, nose catching your clit in a way that makes you squirm. His beard scrapes against your skin deliciously, leaving a sting that you know you'll be able to see evidence of when he's done. He laps at you before finally taking your clit in his mouth and sucking like his life depends on it. It's only his hand on your outstretched thigh keeping you from suffocating him between your legs, though you're not sure he'd mind.

"Should be a crime," he says. You look down the length of your body at him. His chin is wet with you, eyes meeting yours when he feels your stare. "Cunt this pretty tastin' so good."

How do you reply to that?

He's back at it before you can even try. Joel gets messy with it, the sounds of his attention loud and filthy. He tells you how wet you are, how good you taste, and your eyes flutter shut again.

"How're we doing?"

"Don't stop," you manage. "Just, don't stop--"

He prods your entrance with one finger. "Reckon you can take it, hmm? You're so wet it'll be easy." There's a bite to his tone, a sense of amusement mixed with awe like he can hardly believe it either.

"Two," you gasp. "I can take two." You need two, in fact. His hands are one of the few parts of him you've been able to study and you know his fingers are long, much thicker than yours and you need them to fill you up, need them to stretch you out. You need something to clench around because right now you feel like you're on the edge of the pleasure building in your core and if you don't get a release soon you'll just…just…combust.

Joel hums but you feel a second finger nudge into you. He slides them in and curls them as he goes. Your back arches off the bed.

"Dunno," he coos. "Pretty tight, sweetheart." The slight meanness to his words is in complete contrast with the gentle, attentive way he handles you. Who knew he'd be such a fucking tease.

"Well get to work, then." He scissors the digits inside of you in reply and returns to sucking on your clit. You reach down and bury your hand in his silver-streaked hair, tugging a bit harder than you intend to. Joel just moans into your cunt, the vibration making it feel like your very pelvis is rattling as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

Sweat beads on your brow as you try to hold on. He picks up the pace and presses into your walls with his fingertips like he's looking for something. His tongue wreaks havoc on the rest of you, sucking bruises into your inner thighs when he's not abusing your clit. If this is just the foreplay you don't know how you'll survive actually fucking him. And he hasn't even asked you to touch him, hasn't shown even a hint of expectation. He's doing this to get you ready but based on the blown state of his pupils he's enjoying it almost as much as you are.

"Getting close?" he asks, breath ragged. Your skin is starting to feel deliciously raw from his beard and the hook in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter.

"Yes -- fuck -- I'm close, Joel, keep --"

His hand moves faster than before and he latches back onto your clit. Your legs start to shake and you feel your orgasm coming, it's just right there, you just need him to --

His fingers find the spot he must have been looking for and your only warning is a sharp tug on his hair and then your back arches and you come all over his face. He fingers fucks you through it and you feel it as your walls clench around him, your mouth open in a high whine as your muscles finally relax and you flop back onto the bed. Joel keeps his face in your cunt, gently lapping at your release while avoiding your sensitive clit. You push his hair back from his face and try to get your breathing under control.

He manages to get up on his own with a grunt as you pant on the bed. "Okay?" he asks. "Lookin' a little tired." You show him your middle finger and he...laughs, lips shiny with your slick. So he can laugh.

"Are you going to keep your clothes on?" you ask him. His eyes travel slowly over your bare bottom half, the redness of your thighs from his beard and the way your shirt has rucked up to the wire of your bra.

"Nah." He sits heavily on the edge of the bed to take off his boots and socks. You want to ask him if you can undress him, slowly peel off his layers button by button and explore every inch of him but you won't be able to take it if he says no so you just watch. Already you know you'll be thinking about this night for a long fucking time. The way it seems like he cares about how you're feeling, how he wants to take his time with you, how he enjoys your pleasure. It's nice. It's...making you feel wanted.

His denim button-up is tossed on the floor and he stands, shirtless, to undo his belt. The forearms and small triangle at his throat that you've been treated with thus far when he sits at the bar in no way prepared you for the rest of him. Broad shoulders, thick, muscled arms from years of hard work. Graying chest hair that travels all the way down the slight softness of his belly and in a darker trail his jeans. Your mouth waters.

"You're starin'," he says softly before unzipping his fly and pushing his jeans and boxers down in one motion.

"Taste of your own medicine." The words come out with much less bite than you intended as his cock springs free.

Well, he wasn't lying. He is big. You knew he would be based on what you felt through his pants, but seeing it is something else.

You sit up and scoot to the end of the bed to be closer. Is he really going to fit? He's bigger than anyone you've fucked before, that's for sure. A ruddy color, a little darker than his tanned chest, the tip a little lighter and already leaking. A few veins run the length of him and the hair at the base of his shaft is clearly taken care of though a little wild and a shade of deep brown that hasn't grayed much yet. His balls hang heavy, one slightly bigger than the other. He twitches under your gaze. You look up at him and wait for him to call out your staring again but instead, he's just watching you, pupils blown.

"You are...so beautiful," you breathe. He makes a dismissive noise but a flush travels up his chest and to his face. It's true. There's something about him that makes you think you could look every second for the rest of your life and not get enough.

"Should be sayin' that to you." He strokes himself once and you lick your lips. "You got a condom? Should be one in my pocket if you don't." Does he always carry one? Or did he hope to get lucky with you, just like you've been thinking about him?

"Bedside table drawer." He goes for it and you remember too late that the drawer has...other things in it, too. His eyebrows raise and he eyes your small collection of toys but says nothing, though his cock twitches again. If you asked, would he use them on you? He seems like the type to be into that. But right now you need him inside you so badly you might combust.

"Can I?" He pauses before handing the foil square to you. You take him in hand and stroke him from root to tip. He makes a noise low in his throat and you lean in to trace the vein along the bottom of his shaft with your tongue. His hips twitch forward just a bit like he's trying to keep control and failing. You know the feeling. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the slightest bit salty. You kind of lose the plot for a second, thoughts of him fucking you fading with the desire to make him feel good like this, to blow him until he's moaning your name like you were moaning his.

Joel slides his fingers into your hair and you manage to take him about halfway before he tugs gently. "I'm not complainin'," he says, voice tight. "'Specially when you look so damn pretty like this. But I've been hard as a fuckin' rock for an hour and I ain't as young as I used to be, so..." He trails off.

You place a dainty kiss on his tip and pat his hip. "Another time," you say, realizing too late what you've implied, but Joel just smirks. You tear open the foil and slide the condom on as gingerly as you can but he still hisses your name like he's scolding you, that hand in your hair pulling once again just a little. You feel the arousal pooling in your gut, sticky between your thighs.

He tugs on the collar of your shirt. "Off," he says. You're quick to obey, whipping it to a corner of your apartment along with your bra. Joel just looks for a second before reaching a calloused hand to palm one breast, thumb sliding over your nipple. "Look at you," he says, breathy, with a squeeze. "Christ."

"You gonna fuck me, Joel Miller?" You blink up at him. He swallows visibly, throat bobbing before that smirk is back.

"Only ‘cause you asked so nicely."

You scramble back up the bed on your hands and knees, leaning down on your elbows and presenting him with your bare cunt. "Cause I'm such a lady."

"That so?" he murmurs. He drags his fingers through your folds slowly, brows furrowed. You fist your hands in the sheets. "You want it like this?" he asks. He palms your hip, traces the curve of your ass and presses his fingertips into your skin. You wiggle at him a little. Most guys you hook up with want it like this. You don't mind being fucked from behind, don't mind being able to close your eyes with your face shoved in the sheets and just feel. God knows with a dick his size you'll be feeling it regardless of the position you're in. But part of you does want to look at Joel, to watch him, his expression, his handsome, rugged face. Feel his arms around you, feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he fucks you. See what his eyes look like when he comes. But this is enough.

"Do I need to say please?"

The head of his cock presses against your entrance in reply. You crane your neck to see as much of him as you can. He's focused on your ass with a light frown, hands resting on your hips.

"Gonna go slow," he grumbles. His gaze meets yours. "For my benefit as much as yours."

Words don't come. You're breathless and dripping, desperate for him to just get on with it.

"Joel, are you gonna just stand there --"

He slowly, torturously slowly, starts to slide into you. The stretch is immediate, has you face down in the sheets, eyes fluttering. Each inch of painful stretch fades quickly to throbbing pleasure, a fullness that has you keening.

You press your hips back into him but his fingers grip tighter, holding you in place. "What did I say?" he grits out.

"Feels so good, so big," you babble. There's nothing left in your brain, your body, but this. But Joel. You have to have all of him. "I can take it, I can take your cock, I --"

"Got quite the mouth on you, huh?" he says. He keeps pressing into you, filling you up inch by inch. "Okay?" he pants. "Look at me, tell me it feels good --"

You crane your neck again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and look at him. His own are lidded, mouth open in an "o" like he can hardly believe it himself. A flush runs down his chest and if you didn't know better you'd say he's trembling.

"Yes, I -- god, Joel, keep going, please --"

"Doin' good, sweetheart," he coos. His hand strokes up and down your spine. "Almost there. Almost takin' all of me."

He bottoms out and you see stars. You feel lips on your back, the warm puffs of his breath on your skin as he waits for you. It's a fine line between pain and pleasure and you're walking the tightrope but the stretch is delicious. You can feel every inch of him. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears and you shift your hips a little, loving it when Joel moans.

"Alright," you manage. "Move, please." His fingertips are back on your hips and give you a squeeze before he starts to drag his cock out of you. The tip of him catches the spot inside of you that makes your back arch as he pulls out and then again when he thrusts in.

"All that work, my fingers and my tongue and you're still so fuckin' tight. Christ."

The only thing you manage to say is a litany of his name.

"Lemme hear it, baby," he grinds out. Baby. "Be so loud those fuckers downstairs hear you--"

You meet his thrusts as best you can and even though it feels so good, even though you're so full, it's not bringing you to the edge like you need. Your neck is starting to hurt from the way you're twisting to see him, your fingers gripping the sheets as hard as you can because you want to be touching him instead. But this is good, this works, maybe if you touch your clit, you'll --

You reach between your legs and Joel pulls out. You get off your elbows and turn around, almost gasping at the loss of him. "Is something wrong?"

He's frowning at you. "Should be askin' you that."

You don't know what to say. Your cunt throbs a little from being empty, the ache settling in now that he's not there to literally fuck it away. "What?"

"You stopped makin' those noises," he says softly. “The ones you were makin’ before.” You turn around and sit facing him, suddenly a little self-conscious. "Ain't gonna fuck you in a position you don't like."

"I --" You try to fight through the haze of your brain for words. "I liked it fine."

Joel waits. He just stands there at the edge of the bed and waits.

"Maybe..." you try again. "Would on my back be okay for you?"

His eyebrows raise like he can't believe you'd think otherwise. "That'll work for me," he says slowly. "Grab a pillow." You shift back on the bed as he kneels on it, positioning himself between your legs. You hand him one of your pillows and he taps your hip. "Up." You obey and he slides it under you so your lower half is lifted a bit before he presses one leg to the side, spreading you open. He slowly bends the other so that your thigh is pressed against your torso in a deep stretch without being painful. You feel bare, exposed in a way he somehow hasn't yet achieved.

Joel fixes his gaze on your face. "Let's try that." He strokes himself once and then leans over you, bracing himself on one hand near your head. He lines up to press his cock into you again. Faster than last time, you wince a little but you dig your fingertips into his back to tell him to keep going. He bottoms out and you immediately feel the difference, eyes fluttering shut. Before it was like he was plowing into you, like you were so full you could hardly handle it. But like this it's like he's melting into you, like there is no space between you anymore. You're full but it's not so harsh. You don’t know where you end and he begins.

"That better?" he croaks. You force yourself to look at him and find his face closer, closer than you thought he'd get, breath warm on your face. His forehead is beaded with sweat and his eyes search your face. This close you can see they’re grey, the lines at the corners deep with strain. Even like this, stuffed full of his cock, you could look at him all day.

"Move, Joel," you tell him. He takes that for a yes and starts at a punishing pace. You have no idea how he's kept it together this long, considering you've felt on the edge of another orgasm this entire time. You anchor your arms on his shoulders as his thrusts make you see stars.

"Ask for what you want, you hear me?" His balls smack loudly against you and he presses his lips to your ear. "You ask and I'll do my damn best."

You don't know what it is -- the overwhelming sensation of his cock dragging in and out at this angle, how close he is, his words -- but you feel tears at the corners of your eyes again. You nod frantically, hands grasping for purchase on his back.

"C'mon," Joel says. "Gotta use that mouth, sweetheart."

"Yes," you pant. "Yes, yes, Joel, yes --"

"Fuckin' perfect for me," he moans. His lips trail up your cheek, tongue catching your tears before he presses them to yours in a messy kiss that's more teeth and breath than anything else.

"Joel, Joel, Joel --"

"Gonna come for me? Gonna soak my cock like you did my face?"

Your orgasm comes like the snap of a rubber band. You hold him as tight as you can as it washes through you, the waves almost painful as he keeps fucking you fast and hard, your name a series of broken sounds from his mouth until his hips stutter and he groans deep in his chest. You try to keep your eyes on him as you come down from your high and are rewarded with the scrunch of his brow and the slight part of his lips as he comes. Beautiful, you think.

The room is all of sudden much quieter without the sounds of your fucking. It's just the dull sounds of Frank's through the floor and your combined panting as he pulls out of you and flops on the bed beside you. You wince this time, the soreness really settling in. Joel finds your hand and kisses the back of it in a move so unexpectedly tender you can't look at him, raw as you are already. The bed shifts and you figure he's throwing out the condom.

"You okay?" he says. You open your eyes and find him standing at the edge, looking at you. He's holding your robe from the bathroom. You stretch and let him look.

"Yeah," you reply. You give him a smile as you scoot to the edge and wrap yourself in it when he holds it out. "Thank you." Joel grunts.

You go to the bathroom yourself to pee and see the damage. Hair a mess, your mascara gathered around your eyes like you've been working hard. You've got hickies forming on your neck and chest, the skin rubbed a bit raw from his beard around your mouth. You love how you look right now.

You look like you got fucked well. And you did.

But now you want a shower and a snack and to go to bed.

You half expect Joel to be gone when you go back into the bedroom. You remember belatedly that you don't let hookups stay the night. Will he leave if you ask him to? If he's already left then you don't need to worry about it. A small part of you worries you won’t ask him to go.

Instead, he's sitting on the edge of your bed putting his boots on. His shirt is unbuttoned but other than that he's dressed. He looks up briefly. His own hair is going in a thousand different directions and if this wasn't a one-night stand you'd fix it for him, a hand pushing it back like you did when he was between your thighs. But things are different outside the heat of the moment.

"You want some water or anything?" you ask instead.

He shakes his head and finishes his boot, stands and buttons his shirt. "Nah," he says. "Should just head out."

You wonder belatedly if there's anyone at home missing him. Maybe he's got a wife. Maybe he's got a life that he's running away from and into your arms.

"Bar'll be closed by now, or as good as," you say. You spy his jacket by the door and bend to pick it up. "No one'll see you."

Joel's face does something funny that you don't quite know how to read. He takes his jacket from you and shrugs it on. "Alright," he says.

He looks awkward in a way you didn't know he could so you throw him a line. "Thanks," you say. For fucking me. For listening to me. For making me feel good. "It was fun. See you around?"

His expression softens. He steps close and gently holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger before kissing you once, firmly but chastely compared to what you were doing before.

"See you around," he says. And then he opens the door and disappears down the stairs.

You hear the outer door close and only then do you let out a breath. Your entire body feels like you just spent hours at the gym. But your mind? It's going a thousand miles an hour. You don't know what to think about first -- how Joel looked, how he spoke to you, how his hands felt. How he implored you to ask for what you wanted, how he made you feel good because it made him feel good. How you desperately, desperately want to see him again, to know him in every possible way. How you want him to walk back up the stairs and hold you until you fall asleep.

And that's not how you expected to feel. It's not how you should feel after a one-night stand with a guy you serve a few times a week at your place of employment. Like he saw right to the core of you, like he gave you something you didn't know you needed.

You need to get a hold of yourself. This is how it starts -- this is how you get hurt. You care. Well, you always care, but no one has to know that. You let someone care about you. Not that Joel does, but he could.

But isn't that the one thing you want most of all?

You sleep in the next day. There's not much that needs to be done at Frank's besides bookkeeping and inventory which doesn't take you long. When you finally make it downstairs, three Advil popped to ease the soreness of your entire body, you're surprised to find Bill himself sitting at the bar.

He looks just as you remember, hair a little longer and a little grayer. Shit kickers and jeans, a hunting jacket and trucker hat. You'll bet his actual truck is parked around back where no one from the road can see it.

"Uh, hi?" Bill hasn't come around for at least a year, which is making your stomach sink a little. The last time was when there was a fire because some dumbass tried to smoke inside and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to quit on him for having to throw water on the nasty curtains.

"Heard about Seth," he says. Always right to the point, this guy. He's drinking what looks to be Coke with a lemon. "Sit." You do as he says. So much for bookkeeping.

"Yep," you say. You have no idea where he heard it and know better than to ask. "No big deal."

"I want to retire."

What? "Do you...work here?" Bill appreciates honesty and he's the kind of asshole that respects you if you're an asshole back.

"No," he says. "But I own the fuckin' dump. And me and Frank want to retire."

"There's a Frank?"

"My partner, dumbass. Keep up."

You were already groggy and still muddled from last night but this is forcing you to bring everything into sharp focus. Bill wants to retire. Which means he wants to...

"So my options are to sell this dump or find someone to take it."

If he sells the bar you're shit out of luck. No way another owner would let you live upstairs the way you do for next to nothing and let you work here and run the show. This is...a lot to take in.

"Are you listening to me?" Bill says. You blink a few times.

"No," you admit. "Can you say that again?"

He sighs. "Do you want it?"

"The bar?" you ask incredulously.

"No, idiot, the dumpster out back. Yes, the bar." He raps his knuckles on the bar top. "You could keep everything the same. It's just paperwork, really. I'll just give it to you. God knows a young person like you could make it nicer, turn a better profit." He says it like it's an insult.

"Are you fucking serious?" This goes against most every rule you've had for yourself for the last who knows how long. Don't get attached, keep moving. No one really needs you so you can disappear whenever. You haven't gotten bored yet, haven't gotten restless, but you know it'll happen. There's no way you can do this forever. But owning a bar? That would make you stay. You'd have no out. You’d have to let yourself be seen, let yourself be needed. You’d have to commit. You’d have to not fuck it up.

"Why not?" he shrugs. "I know you said it was temporary back when you moved in, but you practically run it."

He's right. Everything is temporary for you. But would sticking around be so bad? Would trying to actually make a life for yourself, have a home base, a thing you care about be the end of the world? And then there's Joel...No. Not going there.

"I..."

"Either you take it or I shut it down." Bill gets off his stool and looks around. "No one cares enough about it to try to sell it."

"Then why me?"

"Do you care about it?" he asks. His piercing stare pins you to your stool, compels you to be honest with him where you're rarely honest with yourself.

"Yeah," you say. "I do."

"Then there's you're fuckin' answer. I know you do. You clean the shit out of this place and train the seasonal dipshits and learn the names of the fuckin’ drunks and live upstairs and make this a good place for good people to come. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice." It's possibly the most words Bill has ever said to you in a row.

"Can I...think about it?"

He shrugs. "Sure," he says. "Not too long, though. Gotta decide by the end of the year. Maybe earlier."

That gives you three months, give or take. To figure out what the fuck you're going to do.

With one conversation Bill has shattered your entire life here. Now there’s actually a timer on it, this little piece you’ve carved out and started to enjoy. Could you make it a real thing? Could you finally admit to yourself that this is what you want – to be wanted? To be needed? To have something that’s yours?

The bar door shuts and you realize Bill has left you alone with your thoughts. You shift in your stool and a wave of soreness rolls through you from your core.

You thunk your forehead on the bar. “Fuck me,” you say to the empty room.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction

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nemoredraw · 6 days ago

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Can we get a full Nemo (your oc) body drawing? And some notes about them! I’m invested in his story and his deal!!!

[TRIGGER WARNING] Violence, drugs, etc.

Of course!

Here are some reference drawings I usually use.

Fun facts about Nemo Arkham:

• Skilled in mechanics: Surprisingly, he does quite well fixing and understanding the workings of many vehicles or even gadgets.

• Firearms proficiency: Despite always carrying two pistols, he’s not very skilled with them. He prefers to play with the element of surprise in close combat. He still has a lot to learn about firearms but is quite adept with melee weapons (though explosives require less effort for him).

• Fashionable: He likes to dress well, usually in elegant suits, even in complex situations. It has become a symbol of his identity.

• Smokes anywhere: Even in tricky situations, he smokes. Let’s just say it helps him think.

• Great actor: He always likes to keep everything under control. When things slip out of his grasp, he becomes overwhelmed and desperately tries to regain control. He never does anything without a double intention, making it hard to trust him. He always seems to be playing with those around him. Nemo has excellent manipulation skills.

• Multilingual: He speaks several languages—Russian, German, Japanese, French, Spanish, and English. He is most fluent in Spanish and English. His origins are European, though the specific region is unknown.

• Empathy for children: This is the one area where he shows genuine empathy, likely because it reminds him of his childhood.

• Feminist: Despite his identity as a villain, he always defends women, viewing them not as sexual objects but as people.

• Spending habits: He doesn’t care much about spending money and is often surrounded by luxury, but only when he’s with others. In the quiet of his home, he’s content with a good bottle of whiskey and regular cigarettes.

• Solitary: He dislikes having close relationships, believing they could become a weakness others might exploit.

• Body modifications: He has a navel piercing.

• Transgender: He transitioned at a young age, and since his body hadn’t developed much yet, transitioning to male was easier for him.

• Heir turned soldier: Nemo is an heir but was raised more like a soldier or a weapon, always under his father’s yoke.

• Self-grooming: He cuts his own hair, which is why it always looks rather messy.

• Drug addiction: He’s addicted to a new drug called ASH BONE. He usually consumes it alone since (depending on the dose) it puts him in a state of chemical submission. A small dose only relaxes him.

• Goal (spoiler): Nemo’s objective is to destroy Batman and Gotham, no matter the limits he has to cross.

• Slade Wilson’s role: Slade trained him in hand-to-hand combat for a period of his life. Nemo never liked Slade. (Spoiler) When Nemo escaped his father’s grasp, he was kidnapped and tortured to break his will. Slade oversaw the torture, administering the experimental drug ASH BONE for the first time, making Nemo addicted.

• Shade the cat: As a child, Nemo adopted a black cat named Shade.

• Connection with Damian: The only member of the Batfamily he gets along with is Damian. He understands his anger and pain, so they connect perfectly, even though they maintain a lot of emotional distance. Nemo gave Damian those little star-shaped clips.

• Nicknames for Batman: Nemo ironically calls Batman “the emo who listens Deftones.” (He has many nicknames for the Batfamily: “the bats,” “winged rats,” “the emo squad,” “the darkness,” “the dark divas,” etc.)

(I could go on all day writing more random facts about Nemo, but I don’t think many people would care, haha!)

#oc art #dc ocs #dc rp

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bloodyinkandquill · 17 days ago

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Venomshank x hawk-hybrid pet Reader

ok i actually asked katz-ke for help on this one because like the last one i had no ideas sorry requester, however they helped and gave me some good ideas that definitely gave me more motivation and ideas for this one in general, so thanks again katz!!! you’re amazing i adore your stuff id anyone here doesn’t know who they are go check them out, anyways onto the hcs

- How did you end up here? No genuinely you went from a pet to a deity to instead dating said deity, you’re out here living some simps dream

- You’ve always had an unusual power, hybrids weren’t rare, winged hybrids were on the rarer side, usually only stemming from receiving a blessing from one of the deities, but you were, and on top of being an avian you also could transform into an actual hawk, which was basically unheard of, you also had a rather unique coloration when in bird form, darker then your average hawk with an interesting pattern on your wings

- Which is how you ended up one day in your hawk form, chilling and enjoying being a bird, what? It’s nice to escape the responsibilities of adult life for a little while and you can eat bread a shit, you were chilling when suddenly another bird flew up next to you, at first you thought it was a crow but that didn’t seem right, a raven? No it wasn’t that either, it seemed an odd mix of both corvids but larger and, almost a dark green rather then black, but living in Crossroads you see odd shit a lot so you didn’t dwell on it

- Well that bird seemed to want you to follow it a few minutes later and it lead you to a dropped container of fries, aka the jackpot, you happily started eating them but noticed the other bird wasn’t doing anything, you shrugged it off, probably just already ate its fill and was letting you have yours, after eating you did some sort of appreciative dance, you weren’t fluent in bird language let alone weird corvid language so you hoped it conveyed your thankfulness, you were about to fly off when suddenly the bird changed into a demon, no that’s not it, into one of the Swords

- Holy shit, was all you could think as he scooped you up and started flying away with you but now in his demonoid form, alright this was happening, you must have intrigued him as a bird if he was taking you somewhere, you just let it happen and pretended to still be a regular old bird, maybe if you seemed normal he’d get bored and let you go

- Nope you were now in his temple in a, rather fancy, bird cage, this was not on your weekend itinerary, for a few days it went that he or one of his temple workers would feed you and give you toys and enrichment, you could sort of fly around the cage but it wasn’t big enough to transform back and therefore display you were not a bird, least Venomshank seemed kind enough

- After a few days stuck inside the cage he appeared and said, basically talking to himself, that he should let you out for a good fly, the second he took you out of that cage you transformed back into your demon form with an almost traumatized look on your face as you turned to look at him and his horrified expression, after a conversation he was apologetic about taking you as a pet since he didn’t really you were a demon not an actual bird, you said it was fine but gods you missed having arms

- From there you agreed to live at his temple, you had nowhere better to live and he was offering a free room in exchange for taking care of the birds that resided in the gardens surrounding it, this was one of his smaller temples but it was surrounded by gardens and therefore lots of birds, he’d stop by and check in with you and the rest of the happenings every once in a while, he slowly started to check in more and more until one day suddenly you were dating, you weren’t complaining you just weren’t fully sure how you got there honestly

- Oh my gods you never knew the wonder of preening, you’d never gotten close enough to another demon to preen your wings when in demon form, and definitely not close enough to a bird to preen you in bird form, however now that you had someone who had wings in demonoid form and could also become a bird, he knew exactly how to preen you in both forms and it was heaven, you of course preened him back which he was thankful for, with not seeing Sword as much as when he was a kid he didn’t get a chance to be preened as often so he was so thankful to have someone to help him preen again

- Maybe you didn’t quite have the corvid bird brain of gifting shiny things but you still did have a slight bird brain to the point that you did enjoy collecting and gifting small trinkets and sparklies, and Venomshank being some weird version of a corvid had that instinct but stronger, so you both end up gifting each other small things you find, especially when you go flying together in bird form, which is basically your go-to date, if either of you notice something interesting while flying you’ll dive down and grab it, give it to the other who turns demonoid for a moment to put it in their pocket then back to bird form, luckily the items don’t disappear neither of you know where any of your stuff like clothes or items go when you go bird form but you mutually agreed not to question it

- With the flying dates you also enjoy flying through one of the regions or preferably Crossroads and finding the tallest building around and flying onto the roof to look at all the beautiful lights at night, maybe you’ll switch back to demonoid form but sometimes you prefer to stay as birds where everything looks so much brighter and shinier to your bird eyes, its beautiful and it’s nice knowing that you two are maybe the only two people to ever see the views with a demon brain but bird eyes

- With living in his temple you went from a regular room to the best room in the temple, technically speaking it’s supposed to be his room but before you he almost never spent enough time in that temple to need to use the room, so it became yours and his, which does mean it’s full of a few of his things, which with your slight bird brain only means one thing, nesting, on the floor you set up a nest big enough for both of you to fit in full of pillows, blankets, clothes, and some of the items you gifted each other, and on the desk and actual bird nest, slightly comfier, still sized to fit both of you but this time in bird form, it’s less used but still nice to have

- Since he’s well, Venomshank one of the swords he has to leave for occasionally weeks at a time, which makes you more thankful for the nest to have something with his scent and feathers in for when your missing him, once he returns from his duties you’ll be in that nest for at least the next two days together, not that you mind but if anyone walks into the room they’ll see a mess of feathers and the occasional body parts making so many freaking cooing sounds

- Speaking of cooing sounds both of you make bird noises in and out of bird form, it’s more common in bird form but it’s still not uncommon to coo or squawk in demonoid form, you coo and trill with each other, make squawks and chirps, sometimes it sounds like a gods damn bird sanctuary when you’re both around, you also can sort of communicate with the bird noises which is nice as well

- He gives you a necklace or earring, with just one of his feathers, it takes you a moment to realize it’s his shiniest best feather, not quite a proposal but more of a promise ring, you wear it with pride and do the same finding your best feather to give him in exchange, he puts it in his hat and somehow when in bird form you now both have a feather, not attached to you but buried into your feathers so it doesn’t fall out, of each other’s, he has one of your hawk feathers and you have one of his… corvid feathers, neither of you understand the logistics of how that works but again you have up questioning it

hope this is good again thanks so much katz-ke for the help!! this was fun to write once i got into the groove of it honestly, alright i made a deal with myself once i wrote this id let myself reread a fanfic i love so im off to do that toodles

#x reader #phighting x reader #phighting #phighting!#phighting venomshank x reader #venomshank x reader phighting #phighting venomshank #venomshank phighting #venomshank x reader

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inoreuct · 10 months ago

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more sanji drinking angst plis,,, 🙏🏼😁

y’know, it’s normal when zoro drinks. he has an iron liver and a sky-high tolerance. he get mildly tipsy with the amount of alcohol sufficient to kill a regular man.

when sanji drinks, though, it’s usually… not very good.

they’re in the galley, have been since dinner. zoro’s drowsy and full and slumped over the table with his chin in his hand as he watches sanji scrub at the dishes until they squeak, divested of his suit jacket and shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, and the cook looks haggard. they’ve all been expecting it, really, what with Whole Cake being a fucking doozy— but sanji’s been holding it together perfectly. big smiles and neatly-pressed suits and coiffed hair and all.

zoro knows him well enough to know that he’s due to break at some point. still, tonight is the first time he’s seen sanji like this; like he’d just decided to say fuck it all and throw pretence to the wind. maybe it had been thanks to the emptiness of the galley, save the both of them. maybe sanji had considered it safe because zoro was in no place to judge.

but when sanji had picked up that bottle of rum, he hadn’t put it down until there was nothing left.

zoro had let him drink. the cook hadn’t even been smoking any more than usual— hadn’t had a single hair out of place, no sign of the pressure except the strain at the edges of his smile. everybody had been walking on eggshells for the past few days and sanji had just kept going like nothing was wrong, which zoro knows means quite a lot is wrong, because sanji’s a self-sacrificial bastard who wouldn’t be able to ask for help if his life depended on it.

didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt, though. he’s felt like he couldn’t breathe, the whole of last week; it doesn’t feel right seeing the cook with a bottle between his lips instead of a cigarette, liquor wetting the corners of his mouth instead of smoke. it makes part of zoro tighten into a dead knot. on one hand, it’s an unspoken show of trust— deliberately left alone so as to not draw attention to it, but one all the same. sanji would never let himself go in front of anyone else like this. maybe a few months earlier he’d think the cook just didn’t care enough for his opinion and get all offended, but now?

sanji knows he’s here. he’s never unaware of his surroundings, and especially now after… everything. he’s believing that zoro won’t judge him, and he won’t. he doesn’t. but enough is enough, and sanji’s grip on the edge of the plate is tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

it’s almost a relief in a really twisted way. zoro’s been hovering by the sidelines, sleeping with one eye open and waiting for sanji to crack just so he can catch all the pieces before the cook falls apart completely, and it seems like this is it.

his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. “alright, let’s get you to bed.”

“no.” sanji doesn’t stop scrubbing. he doesn’t even bother looking up. “why?”

zoro scoffs. “because you’re fucking drunk, cook. you’ve been washing that plate for five minutes.”

“well maybe it’s just not fucking clean, yeah?” sanji spits, quiet vitriol leadening his words even with his head bowed, and his breathing is jerky as zoro walks forward.

“oi.” it doesn’t come out harshly, exactly, but he needs sanji to know that he isn’t fucking around with this. “What the hell’s going on?”

“i don’t know.”

“what do you mean you don’t—”

“i don’t know!”

zoro lurches back at the outburst as the cook whips around, seething within the span of a second, plate dropped carelessly into the water in the sink. he hears it thunk when it hits the bottom.

“i don’t know, alright?” sanji laughs, eyes wild. “nothing’s wrong. everything’s wrong. everything is fucking perfect and i feel like i’m fucking dying inside.” his voice cracks right before he takes a visible breath and turns sharply, dipping his hand under the water to grab the plate and sponge again.

zoro watches his shoulders tremble. every movement of his now is precise and carefully calculated; he’s moving like a fucking robot and zoro hates it. hates the way his spine looks rigid enough to snap with a touch. hates the way his face is a placid mask, still water with a storm roiling beneath. zoro doesn’t know how to approach this other than with barbed words and concern thinly veiled as confrontation. he doesn’t know what to do other than be here because it’s better than not being here at all.

sanji’s hands have been scrubbed pink and raw. “get out, mosshead.”

“no.”

the cook’s cuticles are peeling, his fingertips pruned. he never lets either of them get this bad. “i said get out—”

“and I said no.” zoro crosses his arms. he counts three seconds of silence before sanji snaps.

“god, for once could you fucking listen?!” the cook snarls, rounding on zoro like a cornered animal and waving his arms. “i don’t want to talk to you right now! i do not want you here! so please, fuck off and— put me down, you piece of shit!” sanji borderline screams, struggling and wiggling over zoro’s shoulder as he’s hauled up and marched out of the galley.

zoro winces as the toe of a steel-capped oxford jams into his ribs, digging in deeper as sanji grunts with the effort. he doesn’t know where he’s going but they end up outside the infirmary, and he shoulders the door open before depositing sanji on the bed without preamble. “stay,” he grunts, ignoring the noises of outrage and turning to go get water.

“you can’t tell me what to do,” sanji spits from behind him, cheeks red from more than just anger as he pushes himself unsteadily to his feet. he either doesn’t realise that he’s listing to the side or he doesn’t care.

“sit down or I’ll make you.”

the cook barks a laugh that snaps in the air like a neck in rope. “try! i fucking dare you, marimo, you—”

zoro tackles him down and he screeches like a trapped cat, trying to escape even as the swordsman pins his legs and shoves his shoulders down into the bunk. “you are drunk. stop it.”

“why?” sanji shouts in his face. the cook is straining against him, all wild eyes and bared teeth, shoulders jerking with a sardonic laugh. “don’t wanna fight anymore?”

“no. i don’t.” the air is suddenly too quiet, too heavy, with something zoro doesn’t know if he should name. he watches as the cook’s face falls and twists into something sullen as he tries one last time to jerk his way out of zoro’s hold. “not like this.”

their ship rocks gently as zoro slowly eases off, shifting his weight back and sitting on the edge of the mattress with a soundless, weary sigh. there’s still a stubborn set to sanji’s chin even as he lays there on his back, unmoving from where zoro put him— leave it to him to be contrary for the sake of being contrary. the swordsman takes a deep breath to suppress an eye roll and opens his mouth to say something—

“it hurts.”

zoro stills, turning so he can see sanji better. “what hurts, cook?”

“everything.”

the blond is staring at the ceiling, unblinking and unreadable. the fabric of his slacks is riding up and zoro swallows down the urge to curl a hand around his pale ankle for comfort. he tells himself he doesn’t know where the urge to soothe came from, but he knows, he knows— this melancholy is something that sanji buries so deep, none of them catch even a glimpse of it on a normal day. his face is a blank slate, his usual fire banked, and he looks so drained. an cracked shell of himself running on empty. “i don’t want to feel it. i don’t want to feel anything,” he continues, softly enough that zoro has to strain to hear, leaning in instinctively.

glossy blue eyes flick over. golden hair scrunches against the off-white sheets as sanji turns his face towards him and whispers, “doesn’t that make me exactly like them?”

no. zoro swallows, at the same time both too wet and too dry, feeling a little like he’s been gutted with a dull knife. he says a mental to hell with it and slowly shifts his hand to wrap his fingers around sanji’s ankle, just a gentle grip, his thumb resting beneath the notch of bone. he can hear the soft sounds of the waves outside as it melds with sanji’s breathing, as he opens his mouth and comes up dry for things to say. “…get some sleep, curls.”

“can’t.” sanji purses his lips, shrugging a shoulder as he looks away like it’s no big deal. “can’t sleep. not well, at least. not since…”

zoro feels his own heart thud against his ribs as his gaze slips over sanji’s face, the redness rimming his eyes and the dark circles beneath. “i’m sleeping with you tonight,” he decides.

the cook makes an aborted noise of indignation before apparently deciding that it isn’t worth the effort. “we can’t fit two people in a bed.”

zoro shrugs, unaffected in the face of the venomous look sanji shoots him. “we can try.”

sanji mutters something to the ceiling under his breath. the swordsman pretends not to hear it.

they end up crammed onto the infirmary bed, sanji squashed against the wall and zoro almost falling off. the blond wiggles around in discomfort for five minutes before sitting bolt upright with a hissed curse and undoing his dress shirt in a frenzy; zoro stifles a laugh as he balls it up and hurls it at the desk across the room before flopping back down with a loud huff.

the cook scrunches himself up, spine pressed against the wall and one knee pulled up between them to maintain the distance, pointed at zoro’s gut as a subtle threat. “i’m not gonna bite you, y’know,” zoro grumbles. here he is doing this out of goodwill and this is how he’s treated.

“i wouldn’t put it past you,” sanji snips in reply. “also, you stink.”

“no i don’t. i just showered.”

“irrelevant.”

“priss.”

“moron.”

“spoiled.”

“i have standards, you sentient piece of kelp.”

“you—” zoro grits out, before he stalls. somehow, throughout this whole exchange, they’d inched closer and closer together and now sanji’s shoulder is digging into his breastbone, his breath warm across zoro’s cheek even as a brush of his skin above the loose, low front of zoro’s shirt feels completely opposite. “why’re you so fuckin’ cold?” he mutters, briskly rubbing at sanji’s upper arms before the cook bats him away with a startled hiss.

“don’t—” he cuts off and huffs a harsh breath, sneering in the dark as he digs for the right word, “—coddle me.”

“why not?” zoro shoots back. the words are out of his mouth faster than he can process, but it’s too late to take them back. “give me one good reason and i’ll stop. just one.”

the quiet that falls into place after that is broken by the sound of sanji’s swallow and nothing else. it’s nearly pitch-black; they’d put out the lamp on the wall and the infirmary has no windows. if zoro strains his eye he can see sanji’s outline curled close to his own front, golden hair darkened to honey and arms wrapped around himself.

he recalls how it had felt to have fine bones beneath his hand. how the cook hadn’t kicked him off.

the hand he rests on sanji side is tentative. barely-there pressure, a ghost of a touch with enough space for sanji to back away. he settles his palm down more firmly after a few seconds, tracking his thumb up and down the bumps of sanji’s ribs, and he barely stops his breath from catching when the cook wiggles away from the wall and presses his spine into zoro’s hand.

sanji’s looking at him. he can see the occasional flutter of long lashes, feel the weight of the cook’s attention like sanji’s preparing to say something, but it never comes. a soft breath slips from his lips before zoro feels a hand curl around his waist, fingers curling into his shirt.

“sanji.”

the cook heaves a long-suffering sigh. it doesn’t hide how he’s affected by zoro using his real name; zoro can read him too well for that. knows him too well for that. “what.”

zoro readjusts, fingertips pressing into the small of sanji’s back to pull him closer, and wonder of wonders, the cook lets him. “you’re nothing like them.”

he pretends he doesn’t feel sanji’s arm tighten around him after a few seconds. he notices that his shirt’s damp right before he falls asleep, right where sanji has his face buried in his shoulder.

he doesn’t mention any of it.

the next morning is… interesting.

zoro had woken to an empty bed, with the sheets just barely warm and hazy recollections of a lithe body tucked to his side, a leg thrown over his and soft hair under his chin. he stretches and ambles down to the galley, scratching at his stomach beneath his shirt as he yawns, and right on cue— sanji’s disdainful little tongue click reaches his ears, and he smiles. everything’s back to normal, then.

there’s more of the usual; luffy getting yelled at to leave the eggs alone, i don’t care if you’re hungry, they are raw, and nami and robin being handed their special little tiny cups of coffee and tea respectively. the rest of the crew filters in, and zoro people-watches from his spot on the ratty corner couch before he eventually gets up and slides into his seat at the table.

but when sanji takes his spot beside him, it feels different. the cook’s made onigiri for breakfast, the plate set down just a little closer to zoro’s side than usual before he sits, and zoro pauses with his chopsticks in the air as an ankle bumps into his.

not roughly, or painfully, nowhere near, no. just a reminder. a small nudge that could say any possible number of things, but from the way sanji’s gaze meets his before darting away, he’d guess it’s the thank you that their cook always has so much trouble saying. it’s never a lack of gratitude— more of a refusal to acknowledge that he needed help in the first place, that he accepted it, but zoro will take what he can get.

the circles under sanji’s eyes aren’t quite so dark anymore.

zoro knocks back. he feels the rasp of his boot laces against the heel of sanji’s patent leather oxford, and neither of them pull away. the swordsman presses his lips together and takes a big bite to hide his smile, failing momentarily when sanji immediately starts berating his abysmal table manners, marimo, honestly, if you choke i will leave you to die, and yeah, sure. back to normal.

he catches sanji’s eye again, sky-cornflower-ocean blue, and he wonders what sanji could be seeing in his to make his face soften like that.

normal, and maybe a little something new.

(he isn’t quite sure what to do the following night. sanji’s already in his own bunk when he slips in for a quick few hours of shut-eye, but it isn’t long before he feels someone climbing in with him, and he just knows instinctively without even needing to open his eye. they’ve got limbs hanging out here and there but they fit reasonably well and zoro wakes with sanji’s sleep shirt tucked in his fist and his thin blanket pulled up around his shoulders.

it goes on like this night after night to the point where their crew knows, he thinks. even if zoro discounts the fact that most of them share a bunkroom, they’ve still got to know something’s up; sanji glows like sunlight reflecting off the ocean now, real smiles and laughs that have him tossing his head back and holding his stomach, eyes in sapphire half-moons. robin brings it up offhandedly one day and zoro hums that proper sleep’s doing their cook good— she gives him that look that she does, and he turns away with a smile that he hides in his arm.

the first time sanji finds him in the crow’s nest, he’s still asleep when zoro’s watch ends. the cook’s stretched out on the bench above as zoro sits on the floor, hand draped down against zoro’s collarbone, his face so peaceful that zoro can’t— fuck, he can’t wake him.

and it can’t be comfortable lying on his own arm like that; zoro sits down and carefully pushes him up until sanji’s leaning on his shoulder, that sharp nose tucked under his jaw, and drifts asleep.)

(he stirs awake before sanji’s gone. his eye flutters open to find the cook mid-yawn, working out a crick in his neck and bathed in early-morning light, warm and golden. the cook realises he’s watching and freezes, shoulders going tense and stiff—

he deflates a little when zoro blinks at him, sleep-warm and bleary. “gotta make breakfast, marimo,” he murmurs, reaching out after a moment’s hesitation.

the hand that cups zoro’s cheek is gently callused and somehow familiar. he turns into it like a flower to the sun and breathes in something that he never even realised he’d gotten used to, olive oil and shoe polish and orange blossom pomade. “i know,” he replies, pressing the words into sanji’s palm, and a thumb drags across his cheekbone.

“need anything before i go?” sanji asks, and they both know it’s half a joke. what could he possibly give zoro in here? a dumbbell sandwich?

that other half, though— it’s far too serious. a cold plunge of water through zoro’s muddled early-morning brain. he knows what he wants, but zoro also knows that patience is a virtue for a reason.

the cook already has a hard enough time letting people in. zoro doesn’t want to push. the hand against his cheek is enough for him, even if it is all sanji could ever want, and so he slips the blond a wry grin. “onigiri?”

“you— ugh, fine.” sanji huffs. “anything else?”

zoro frowns, growing increasingly convinced that this is some sort of trap. these are unprecedented levels of generosity. “…protein shake?”

it takes all of two seconds before sanji puts his face into his hands, taking a deep breath before zoro hears something about having to do everything myself, don’t i? the cook plants his hands on his hips, tapping his foot with one brow arched. “of all the people in the world,” he mutters through his teeth, advancing on zoro with enough of a menacing air that the swordsman leans back into the backrest, “of course it had to be you.”

“me what?” zoro says warily, eyeing sanji up and down, and opens his mouth to continue before a fist grips his collar and there’s a brush of contact at his temple— a kiss, he realises, before all the thoughts drain out of his fucking brain.)

(he’s still reeling when he stumbles his way to breakfast. still wide-eyed as he washes the plates, for once, without complaint. it’s when it’s just the two of them, when zoro twists around to ask a question that he hasn’t yet phrased, that arms lock around his waist and sanji’s forehead presses to his nape.

they’re quiet for a long, long while. “you remind me that i’m not like them, y’know,” sanji breathes, barely loud enough to be heard.

zoro turns in his hold, hands dripping all over the floor, fuck, the cook’ll make him clean that up later, he knows and he isn’t even mad about it. “what do you mean, curls?”

sanji leans into him, all sharp edges and bony joints softened by lean muscle and zoro’s fondness, fingers long and thin and laced together over zoro’s hip. “i’m pretty damn sure they’ve never felt like this.”)

(not much changes after that. franky does make them a bigger bunk to share, though, and they fight perhaps even more fiercely now; afternoons are spent toying with each other across the deck, pushing their limits, pushing each other higher until nami yells at them to stop making a racket. zoro doesn’t pretend that he can’t tell when sanji needs a little more contact, keeping him close when perfectly filed nails dig into his shirt. sanji takes care of them all like he always does, and he lets zoro take care of him— most of the time, at least. it’s still a toss-up on whether he’ll explode or break down whenever anyone tries to help him, but with zoro it’s either both in succession or neither.

sometimes he picks a fight and then cries afterwards. others, he concedes to being wrapped in a ratty old blanket and tucked into zoro’s chest where he can hide from the world.

he sleeps through every night now, though. he’s fiery and sharp-tongued and bright-eyed and when he’s had a bit too much to drink he just gets loud, fooling around with their captain and cackling with nami in a corner of the galley between conspiratorial whispers, but zoro can’t deny him anything even though he’s fairly sure they’re plotting his downfall.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

#THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANONNNN #will never get tired of angsting this babygirl. i’m sorry he just has so many Issues #BUT I ALWAYS GIVE THEM HAPPY ENDINGS ALRIGHT SO IT BALANCES OUTTTT #it’s almost 4am this time this is actually horrid #GOODNIGHT ZOSAN NATIONNN #zosan #one piece #black leg sanji #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece sanji #one piece zosan #one piece zoro #sanji #zoro #ino writes #ino’s ask box

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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jamie and reader used to date before he went back to his old team and broke reader’s heart 💔 now he’s back and wants reader back ANGST AND FLUFF PLEASEEE

I’ve been thinking about this request since FOREVER so I hope I did it justice!!

wonder what it’d be like

You don’t get paid enough for this shit.

“So you do know Jamie Tartt?” asks some journalist doing some piece on some footballer crap. You don’t know and you don’t care.

“If you’re not going to order anything, I’m going to get my boss and have you removed from the premises,” you reply, undeterred in your mission to wipe down empty tables. Brian loves his coffee shop and is fiercely protective of both his employees and his peaceful atmosphere. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s kicked someone out.

“Well, do you have any comment on the fact that he said you were the love of his life?”

You don’t miss a beat. “No I do not. Can I get you any coffee or should I get Brian?”

The journalist declines both, and is out the door.

Fucking Jamie Tartt. What does he even think he’s doing? How did you even come up in an interview? Was the question, who, Jamie Tartt, is the greatest love of your life?

(You’d find out later that yes, that was the question. The journalist was looking for an answer like “Keeley Jones,” or “Kiera Knightley,” something a little spicy.)

It doesn’t matter, the journalist (you think his name was Trent) is gone and you can go back to making coffee and chatting with the regulars.

—

You should have known that wasn’t the end of it.

God, why can’t you just work in peace? You have enough on your plate, between homework and student loans and the person who’s complaining that their iced coffee is “too cold.”

You don’t need to add “prick footballer ex-boyfriend,” to the list.

But he seems bound and determined to add himself to your list of things to take care of, with the way he’s following you around as you hand people their orders.

“Trent said you wouldn’t talk to him,” he says.

He takes your silence as license to keep going. “Why didn’t you just take the money? Can’t be making much here.”

Do not let him get to you, you remind yourself. Do not sink to his level.

So you just shrug. “I’m not one of those people who fucks a famous footballer just for the money. Now I’m going to give you the same choice I gave that goddamn reporter: you can get a coffee or you can get. Out.”

So Jamie leaves.

—

It figures that your ex would find some way to make your life hell. Sure, you’ve gotten mostly over him and you have your own life and you’re on your way to becoming an accountant because numbers are fun and numbers don’t break your heart. So of course, now is when he decides to show up and have journalists poking around.

But you refuse to talk about him with anyone. It’s rude, in your opinion. It devalues your old relationship and yourself and you won’t do it.

So instead you stay after hours, going over finances at the café while Brian and his boyfriend chatter softly and try new coffee combinations.

You laugh as they bicker and and sip everything they set before you, grateful that you don’t have to think about the day Jamie got signed to Manchester City and decided that he was too good for you.

Unfortunately, you have to go home at some point, which means you’re wide awake in your bed, flatmates all asleep leaving you to replay that whole terrible day.

—

(He said, “It ain’t gonna work, babe, I’m in the Premier League now and I should be with someone who’s at my same level.”

You said, “Don’t call me babe.”

He said, “Don’t waste any tears over me, I won’t be crying so you shouldn’t either.”

You said, “I sure as hell won’t cry over a heartless dick like you.”

He said, “That’s a heartless Premier League dick to you.”

And that was it. A year-long relationship and four year-long friendship down the tubes.)

—

The article hits the papers and now you’re constantly being harassed by journalists.

You read it, the part about you. It was written in interview format, with a bolded question and then Jamie’s response. It was like a glimpse into his personal life, who he was outside the pitch.

Jamie, you’ve had an astonishing career at such a young age, and made a name for yourself both on and off the pitch. Your name has been in the tabloids with many famous models and actresses in the few short years you’ve played in the Premier League. So my question is, in the history of your romantic entanglements, who is the absolute love of your life?

In your opinion, it was a long lead-up to a short question.

Jamie’s response was two words. Your first and last name.

That fucker.

It makes work so bad that you had to hide in the back while Brian tells people to leave.

You apologize profusely once everything’s closed and everyone’s gone.

“I’ll give you my official notice and everything, and I can still help out with finances if you want,” you say. “I’m- not trying to be annoying, but the extra money would be really helpful while I look for another job.”

Brian shakes his head. “I’m not firing you, kid,” he says. “It’ll die down. And Caleb and I are happy to have you over for dinner if you want to talk about it.”

You’re so relieved and grateful that you hug him.

—

It’s late again. You’re in your kitchen. All three of your flatmates are out and will be gone until the morning, so you have the flat all to yourself. You’ve lit some candles and turned on the soft lights, and are criss-cross on the counter listening to Fleetwood Mac with brownies in the oven.

You allow yourself to think about some of the questions that were thrown at you throughout the day.

How long have you known Jamie Tartt?

When was the last time you spoke?

Are you still friends?

You shake your head. Weird.

There’s a knock at the door. Even weirder. You’re not expecting anyone.

You hop down and pad down the hall, standing on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. It’s Jamie. You make a face, double-check that the door is locked, and turn back to the kitchen.

“I know you’re there,” Jamie calls through the door. “I can see the light on, and your car’s out front. I just want to talk.”

You’re not going to open the door, but then he calls your name and you’re rooted to the floor.

You open the door just enough so you can look at him, but not enough that he thinks he can come inside.

“I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me other than an apology, especially after the day I’ve had,” you say, more fire in your voice than you remembered you had.

The fire dies when you get a good look at Jamie’s face.

It’s different.

He looks… forlorn, almost?

“I do, I do have an apology,” he says. There’s no malice, no conniving look on his face.

You say, “Ok,” in a tone so soft that Jamie could almost forget the anger you just held.

“Look,” he begins, but is cut off by your timer beeping in the kitchen. You sigh.

“I have to get those,” you say. “Can’t burn down the flat. Do you… do you want to come in? Just for a minute.”

Jamie nods and follows you inside, closing the door behind him.

He follows you to the kitchen, close on your heels, where you motion for him to sit while you take out the brownies.

“Right,” he says once you’re leaning on the counter across from him. “Look- I was a prick. I thought I was fucking special because my right foot was kissed by god. I didn’t know how to fucking handle it so I acted like a prick. And I never said I’m sorry.” He takes a breath. “Keeley’s always talkin’ about accountability, so… here I am. Taking fucking accountability.”

You just look at him.

“I’m not looking for forgiveness,” he hurriedly continues. “Just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry for hurting you.”

You’re still not talking, so Jamie gets up.

“Right,” he says. “Right. I’m going to leave ya now. Got fucking trainin tomorrow.”

He’s halfway down the hall when he turns and says, “Oh, by the way, I called your uni. Paid the rest of your tuition, gave them some extra in case you decide you want to keep going.” Then he turns around again and actually heads to the door.

For a moment, you’re too shocked to even move but the magnitude of what he just said sinks in.

“OI,” you bellow. Jamie freezes, hand on the door handle.

��Get. Back here,” you say, voice tight.

“Jamie,” you say once he’s sitting again, “you can’t just pay my student loans. The whole reason I never talk to the press about you is because I don’t want to be like those people who just, like, use you for your money. I had it handled and I don’t need you thinking that I’m just- just- using you. And fuck off with saying that shit in a magazine,” you continue, “You can’t just use me to make yourself more family-friendly. Saying that you like the girl who works in a fucking coffee shop so she can get through school and become an accountant. I mean, what the fuck? Just say it was a model or an actress or something, but don’t use me, because I never used you.”

Jamie shakes his head. “But it’s not like that,” he says earnestly. “I know what you’re like. I know it ain’t about the money. That’s why I said what I said. You really are the love of me life.”

You’re silent, analyzing his face. There’s nothing that indicates he’s lying, and if you can claim to know Jamie at all, you’d have to admit that this might be the most sincere you’ve ever seen him.

All you can manage is a weak, “Oh.”

“I’m really, really sorry.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “you keep saying that. I forgive you. But that doesn’t mean that I want to be friends with you.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, no I get that, yeah. Right. I’m not looking for that. I just needed you to know.”

You’re both silent for an awkward moment.

“Right,” Jamie says again. “Guess I’d better go. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

You nod, letting Jamie see himself out.

—

“So, you’re not taking him back?”

“Brian,” you say, “why the absolute fuck would I do that?”

He laughs. “I don’t know, if I had some handsome, rich young footballer come to me with an apology that I didn’t ask for, I’d’ve snapped him right up!”

“Don’t let Caleb hear you say that,” you warn.

Brian laughs again. “Oh hon, he’s heard me say so much worse.”

You snort then turn back to the column of numbers in front of you. It’s bright and early, thirty minutes before opening. That gives you twenty minutes to finish what you’re doing before sneaking out the back door. You’re scribbling in the margins in blue glitter pen when there’s a knock on the glass door. You frown.

“Who on earth is knocking?” you ask.

Brian shrugs. “No idea,” he replies as he goes to look.

The frown stays affixed to your face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Brian just lied.

He’s back a moment later.

“Think these are for you,” he says, arm full of flowers.

You drop your pen.

“What the hell,” you whisper.

Brian just grins and places them on the table. “A nice young man in a pink tracksuit dropped them off. Said to give them to you and that he’ll have more tomorrow.”

“Fucker,” you hiss.

“Me or him?”

You glare. “Both. Either. I don’t care. Take these home to Caleb or put them around the shop. I’m leaving.”

You shuffle your papers together and flee the coffee shop, door banging behind you.

—

“Twat,” you whisper to no one in particular.

Jamie’s delivered flowers every day for a week and a half and you’re not sure how he manages it, but he always avoids being caught by you. You’re not sure why he’s delivering them to your place of work, but you have a hunch that somehow, somehow Brian and Caleb are in on it.

It’s fucking annoying, really. They’re so beautiful and in all your favorite colors and you’re absolutely pissed off that he still knows anything personal about you.

You’re even more pissed off that you like it.

I mean, come on, he has your forgiveness; what more does he want?

The worst part is you actually miss him. You miss the Jamie you dated, the one you fell in love with but are not particularly fond of the Jamie who dumped you when he got signed for Man City. What’s to stop him from doing that again?

You decide you’re going to talk to him.

—

Brian brings in a particularly large bunch the next day and you’re on your feet in a flash. You’re out the door before he can ask where you’re going, but he doesn’t need to. He already knows.

You look up and down the street. You know Jamie couldn’t have gotten far.

You catch a flash of blonde hair zipping away to your right.

“TARTT,” you bellow.

The blonde hair freezes as you march up the street.

Jamie turns and grins sheepishly, “Hey, love,” he says.

“Stop bringing me flowers. It’s fucking annoying.”

It might be Jamie’s imagination, but there seems to be slightly less rage in your eyes today.

“Thought you liked that sort of thing,” he says.

“I do,” you say, “usually. When I know why it’s happening. I don’t know why you’re doing it. You already paid my student loans and apologized. I don’t really know what else you want from me.”

“A second chance,” Jamie says promptly. “I weren’t kidding in the article. You can tell me to fuck off right now and I’ll leave you alone. Can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you again, but I can fucking guarantee it won’t be on purpose.”

You’re silent, giving Jamie the tiniest spark of hope.

“Fuck you,” you finally say. Jamie raises an eyebrow as you glare at him. “Fuck you for actually fucking changing. And for making me love you again. You’re all I can fucking think about and it’s been driving me crazy, and Brian’s been no help with all his, ‘you should call him,’ and ‘he seems like a good lad.’ He’s fucking right and I’m fucking mad about it.”

“Yeah?” Jamie asks, “Why don’t you tell me more over dinner tonight? I’ll take you on a proper date.”

You actually smile at him for the first time in ages. “Alright,” you reply, “one date. One. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

Jamie doesn’t care. You’re smiling, which means he’s already won the whole fucking thing. He’s yours again, and he’s not going to fuck it up.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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scarletwritesshit · 7 months ago

Text

🛏️ Stelle x Aventurine 🛏️ Last Night

Kakavasha had to prove he was worthy of survival someone. There were numerous other prisoners present just like him: same shackles, same branding, same rags. But not all of them had the same desire to carry on. For many of them, the light had long since left their eyes, and they seemed to have limited awareness of their surroundings.

In their eyes, Kakavasha was probably not much different than the rest of the prisoners. Well, they did make a few snide comments about his gorgeous body, so at least he some qualities to weaponize against them. Though, being pretty alone wasn’t going to get Kakavasha anywhere. He had to have some practical use to them if he wanted a chance. If he managed to catch the eye of someone higher up, he could serve out his purpose in another way. A displeasing thought, but it would at least buy his life some more time.

If only there were no competition. Surely, their latest batch doesn’t exactly look promising, but Kakavasha still had to be wary of what each individual was capable of under pressure.

An option was for him to straight up eradicate any and all competition. Then, with no other options, they would be force to spare him, otherwise, it would be a mission with minimal spoils for the higher ups. Even if he were to be punished for his actions, what’s the worst that they could possibly do? It can’t be any worse than what he would endure on the regular.

It was a gamble, but he would rather die trying than be picked off without a chance. He held up his shackle bound wrists, the only weapon that he had, and studied them fiercely. Better than nothing, he thought. He could use them to suffocate his first unsuspecting victim, and do some hefty damage swinging the metal into their skulls afterwards.

And look, there was a prisoner sitting up and asleep, a prime target for his first victim. It was tempting, so very tempting. He could take out one right here and now with absolutely no competition. He was already fated to stain his hands with blood, so what difference would it make?

The slumped man was either asleep or apathetic. Not like it mattered, as Kakavasha could walk up to him without the victim moving a muscle. He once more held up his wrists and looked at them, quickly taking a deep breath, before wrapping the chain around the man’s neck and yanking him close. He pulled the chains around his neck with all of the might left in his body, cutting off his air and preventing him from screaming. Any harder, and Kakavasha would’ve snapped his neck clean in half. After the man’s body went limp, he let his freshly deceased corpse flop to the ground. Kakavasha gave it a few good kicks in the side to ensure that it was dead.

Now, Kakavasha felt absolutely nothing. He took one life, and any remorse for taking many more was gone. This first step already meant one less person to potentially take away his chance at survival.

Now, he had to do this about thirty more times, which he did with relative ease. Hardly any of them fought back. It could be argued that they were awaiting their death, which only fueled Kakavasha’s rampage further. Others weren’t willing to go down so easily. Some took a few good knocks on the skull to weaken them before Kakavasha could suffocate them. When they would simply not cooperate with suffocation, he gave them a little extra bit of a nudge to speed things up a bit. Said nudge may have entailed snapping a few vertebrae, but whatever got the job done.

A few lives claimed later, and Kakavasha was completely blind to human morals. He cared not for the lives of those he was taking away, just who was going to be his next target. He spiraled into a violently calm killing rampage, completely unaware of anything outside of his next victim. Kakavasha’s negligence for his surroundings caused him to be struck with a sudden blow to his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Aventurine’s eyes shot open. His body physically felt asleep, but he had enough feeling left to be aware of a weight on his chest restricting his breathing. His face felt disgustingly sweaty.

An all too familiar feeling.

Thank the Aeons he wasn’t actually killed. Though, for a second there, he could’ve genuinely sworn that he made his final gambit.

Feeling slowly returned to his body. He reached out his arm to flick on the lamp to investigate the immense pressure on his chest. First thing he saw lifting himself up were two large gold eyes. The culprit was one of his own snacks. Of course.

The creature stretched towards Aventurine, observing him closely. It must’ve seen him in distress, and made the decision to startle him awake. Aventurine gave the creature a pat on its shell, as he was thankful despite the brief heart attack, then gently nudged it off of his chest.

With his heart rate still elevated, Aventurine didn’t have any hope for returning to sleep. He turned off his light and attempted to regardless, but he remained wide awake. He turned over to see that Stelle was fast asleep, undisturbed and unbothered. Aventurine felt as if it would be rude to disturb her, but perhaps a few harsh words from Stelle are what he needed to knock some sense into him and allow him to relax enough to sleep.

He gently nudged himself closer to her and into her side. It was unlikely that he would wake her from this alone, as Stelle was a heavy sleeper, evident by her drooling mouth and deep snoring.

"Stelle," Aventurine said, shaking her shoulders gently.

She didn’t say anything, as she, only snorted louder. Aventurine was going to have to be a bit more forceful to wake her up.

"Hey, Stelle," he said, shaking her more forcefully.

After a few grumbles and moans, Stelle flopped onto her side to face Aventurine.

"Eruhghhhh...whaaat?" she grumbled.

"I....can’t sleep."

"Can’t you make yourself some tea or something," she said, still not fully aware of Aventurine’s predicament.

"I guess I could, but..."

Stelle stretched her arm out to turn on the lamp on her nightstand. Her hair was a mess and the bags under her eyes were large, making her look like a raccoon that had just climbed out of a trashcan. She rolled back over to see Aventurine, noticing how sweaty and disheveled his appearance was.

"...Oh," she said, finally waking up to his situation, quite literally.

"Y-you see, Miss Stellaron, I sort of-"

"No no, it’s okay, Aven, you don’t need to explain," she said.

She flopped her arms around Aventurine, weakly attempting to pull him closer. It was the best a half-asleep woman could do, but she meant well nonetheless. Aventurine slid himself closer into her arms, unable to resist her hold at a time like this. Though her arms were still weak from being half asleep, she attempted to gently stroke Aventurine’s back to soothe him back to sleep.

“It’s okay, Aven. You’re here…with me…”

Stelle didn’t last very long, as she drifted back to sleep within minutes. Her arm went limp while still draped around Aventurine’s back, feeling like a ragdoll was now resting on his side. Her efforts were at least enough to soothe Aventurine’s troubled heart, but he still remained rather awake. With her lazily holding onto him now, Aventurine had no choice but to stay in bed. His legs were pinned down to the bed by at least one of his snacks anyways. At least now that he was feeling a little more down to earth, he could make an attempt to fall back asleep. Even if he couldn’t, there isn’t anywhere else he would rather be right now. He had it all, between being lazily trapped by Stelle and pounced on by three annoyingly nocturnal critters. It was far better than anything he’s had, though that wasn’t saying very much.

At least he never has to return to that past, no matter how often his mind attempts to delude him into thinking so.

#avenstelle #hsr aventurine #stelle #honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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majaloveschris · 7 months ago

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Hi Maja.

First of all, your blog is one of the only ones I’ve always felt was sincere, on point, respectful, and not toxic. I’ve always had a good feeling about you and how you are kind despite all the toxicity on here.

That feeling has never wavered and there is a big part of me that wants you to be right and win against these ridiculous anons that seem to want to put you down.

An opinion (which I don’t claim to be fact, just some thoughts here): I see a lot of takes on here popping up from blogs that claim they have PR knowledge and claim to be experts and read and follow along the gossip, but I think nobody really knows and they can only hypothesize on what they think is the truth.

I think CE being married (by public knowledge and Wikipedia) was the main goal here. I’ve always sort of felt this, which is why I ultimately was not surprised after he did his SMA spread that he went public with Fish girl and then later on “got married.”

The reason I say this is because HW and society is very judgmental and superficial. Being single or unmarried at a certain age always raises questions whether or not it is valid to do so. I disagree with this sentiment but unfortunately the world is how it is. It happens to regular people, so why wouldn’t it apply to celebs? Especially the ones who have basically become a pop culture icon of being an eligible bachelor/desirable.

Let’s think about this. After 2019, CE was no longer under the marvel umbrella. He had to start defining his post marvel career, and then Covid hit. So many things derailed. He randomly got an IG in 2020 but people found out it had existed as an account since 2019. Perhaps it was always the plan or it was a plan hatched by his PR team to keep him in the public eye. He became relatable internet BF with a Prince Charming storyline of when will he find the one? It was almost overkill from 2020-2022.

Now it’s 2024 and he’s supposedly been with this woman since 2021. It shows longevity and then eventual commitment. He now wears a ring in public so they see him as “settled down.” That’s the image he is now portraying for the public who doesn’t dig or care to deeper in his life.

I don’t think it’s about rebranding to attract a younger audience - if so, his pr team would have realized that gen Z actually does not fare well to age gaps and the subject of grooming and etc always comes up for this hypersensitive on PC/wokeness generation. Then add on the racism and weird ass crap from her/her friends. Definitely not boding well for a generation that lives on the internet and knows how to deep dive. His PR team would have looked at how the public reacted to other relationships like this and I feel, if it was simply he was in love with her and it was real real, would have told him to keep it on the DL DL until it was absolutely certain they had walked down the aisle. At that point, there would be no turning back.

But they marketed this before that happened. They wanted to portray her as the one similar to how in movies, they want to portray a main character and love interest as meant to be even if the audience may or may not receive it that way. How many times do we hear “this movie tanked because the leads had no chemistry and the relationship they wanted us to believe was not believable?”

But ultimately, the endgoal of if CE and his wife are a good couple or not doesn’t really matter. They have achieved their goal of he is now settled down and no longer on the market. If you choose to continue to follow him, stay for his career and not his personal life. Meanwhile, her - well, they’ll keep trying to make her happen because her end of the deal was getting more visibility and breaking into the American market. That much has been clear.

But you can lead a horse to water, you can’t make it drink.

What she chooses to do with the opportunities given to her are left to be seen. Also, how the public and CE/her fanbases chooses to receive them are also left to be seen.

Will this marriage last forever? I have doubts. But I do think they considered many options and this is what they came up with. I also don’t believe CE’s actions show he is very happy with the arrangement, even less so than fish is. Because even from the subtle clues from photos and “videos” - body language does not lie.

To be fair to fish, I doubt she’s in love with him either. I think she’s getting more benefits from this because most of the negativity is being directed towards him, not her. His fans hating and harassing her are just a pinnacle of what he’s receiving from his own fanbase. Some people will disagree with me but he’s the one getting the P and G and disgusting comments and being called the worst person on earth because he married her. His own fans are turning on him and her fans can also blame him but victimize her. The general public doesn’t care too much but will say how he looks because he got with her. She remains “innocent” of any blame because at the end, she is young and he is older so he should know better. Do you see what I mean?

Meanwhile, her fans are just happy she’s getting attention and somebody to fund her poor attempts at becoming a fashion icon. She lacks in talent and work ethic but it’s an easy way for her to get engagement by being attached to him.

The day this ends and she no longer has his name will be interesting and that’s what I think his fans (remaining) are hoping for. They don’t want to reward laziness and clout chasing opportunist and I too support this. They want HIM to be better and find success and love himself more so he doesn’t continue to end up in these shitty situations. But again, he has to want that for himself. He has to want to deserve better so he can work on actually deserving of better.

I hope I didn’t offend anyone with this opinion. Just my thoughts and I support YOU. I hope things work out in the end in your favor because you are a great person and I selfishly want you to be right (haha). ❤️

I completely agree with everything that you wrote down.

I remember seeing people criticize him for saying he wants to get married and have a family, yet he is still single and childless. As you said, it's stupid that people are being bullied and judged because they haven't already settled down, even if they wanted to. Finding a partner is hard, and finding a partner in his shoes is even harder. I obviously don't know whether he actually wants all of that, but saying he must not want all of that because he didn't do so is not right. A lot of people struggle with finding a good partner.

I never agreed with people calling him by the P and G words. I guess these people either don't know what those words mean or are simply that mad as Chris that they feel the need to spread lies. He is not those things and never was. Yeah, 16 years is a lot, but she was a grownup when they allegedly met, and I think people exaggerate when they say she looks like a child.

I think the reason most people are hateful towards him is because they are disappointed in him. I think most people had an idea about the person he is based on the information we had, and him being married to someone like her or even dating someone like her doesn't really fit into that. People aren't disappointed in her because most didn't even know who she was before Chris. We were just presented with her actual self, and we didn't have any expectations from her. But we had for him.

I doubt either of them is in love with each other. Alba doesn't seem that happy or comfortable around him either. I think this is just business for both of them.

I still think he is a good man who made a terrible mistake. I just hope the best for him, to be honest, which I know is an unpopular opinion now because it seems like wanting the worst for him is what is trendy nowadays. Maybe I'm naive; maybe I'm just holding onto an image, but I don't think the last 20+ years were a lie. I hope he will prove me right.

Thanks for writing this down and for being there. ♥

#majaloveschris #chris and alba pr #cevans-love

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verystrxxwberry · 6 months ago

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hi there! ok, my request might be a bit strange, but: what would the guys in moonlight lovers be like as modern young people? i mean., knowing the seven adults who are in the age range from 30 to 2380 y/o, their personalities, styles and how they relate to each other, let's change the canon. 8 university students (including MC), living together in a dorm, studying different majors.

what do they study? how do they dress? what kind of young people are they? what are their tastes? i'm intrigued by the youth version of Vladimir, Neil or Aaron in the 21st century. i ask it as headcanons, but if you are more comfortable with an OS, whatever💗!

thanks in advance

MOONLIGHT LOVERS university AU

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: sfw, only routes (except Neil, I have a curse against him it seems…), routes living the 21st century, they’re humans, pics of the outfits, long!! ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: It’s not a strange request! I genuinely found it pretty cool and I have lots of ideas for this. I hope it is entertaining and you like it! I did it in a general way, both in University and also their normal lives in the 21st century, in headcanons.

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

AARON

Before going to university, he was just a regular student who passed stuff but without being brilliant at it. That’s fine for him, he didn’t want to get straight A’s but he didn’t want to fail either. He just wanted to do what he enjoyed.

His grades on math, history and sport are effortlessly good, getting all A’s. But that’s why he likes practical stuff instead of those subjects that have a lot of theory to memorize. History is an exception for him though. He likes to learn about past times.

It's canon already that his handwriting is a mess, but not only that, his notes ARE a mess.

When he reached university, he decided to study something that allowed him to be practical and to memorize less theory. This man loves both human and animal biology. He loves animals. That’s why he was raised with a few dogs who he took care of with all the love of his life. So he decided to study in a Veterinary school to specialize to be a veterinary surgeon.

He doesn’t like seeing animals in pain, and more than once during the practices he had to leave the room because it was too much for him to see an animal in pain.

Aaron is good with animals and has all the patience when it comes to stand the smelly and noisy environments of farm animals (because veterinary surgeons are usually the ones in charge of diagnosing and treating domestic pets, farm animals, zoo animals and horses). He also knows how to keep animals calm and expects to be attacked more than once as they are also nervous living beings.

He had to move from the camp to a dorm in the city to be near that vet school and do his 5 or 6 years of major, which he achieved to do for his passion in healing and taking care of animals.

In that dorm he got really close to Raphael and Vladimir since they two were calm and had a lot of interesting stuff to talk about with Aaron. He also got along with Ivan since he sometimes needed help with math or other subjects (also some life advice). With Beliath things got slightly different and he got a mate to go drink with after work since they worked in the same restaurant for a few months.

To pay the rent and also his own needs he got to work in several places.

His job career started by working in a restaurant, in which he worked for a few years. The first years living in the dorm he worked with Beliath in another restaurant, as mentioned before, but he decided to change and work in an Ikea after it.

He’s a big fan of music and some mythological literature. And when he gets to see some shows on Netflix thanks to Ethan, he becomes obsessed with Blood of Zeus (same). They all pay for Netflix together, the ones who use it at least.

About music… I hc he likes imagine dragons, hozier, adele, abba and glass animals. He got some influence from Ivan and Ethan and started liking Avenged Sevenfold, even if it’s not the kind of music he’d actually listen to.

He is the taxi driver for Ivan, Raphael and Vladimir.

He doesn’t use his phone too much, and ALWAYS has the volume on. He doesn’t know how to use social media, only twitter and only because Ivan showed him. He is a dry texter and probably uses the thumbs up emoji 98% of the time.

He has a simple style and doesn't put much effort on it, as long as it is comfortable for him. He doesn't really like colorful stuff to wear.

BELIATH

This guy had to repeat a whole year of high school because he didn't put his effort at all. He wanted to have fun instead, making friends and going to parties, so he skipped classes to go somewhere with Ethan and other people, or maybe he was simply going through a terrible hangover.

He is the kind of guy who is effortlessly smart but has no interest since he finds studying boring. He is too good at biology and physics though. When he repeated the year, he started getting very good grades at those two subjects because he decided to put in a little bit of effort just because Ethan motivated him. He basically got told “if you don't get a job of something you do enjoy, you will be enslaved in a restaurant and will suffer.”

Every challenge for him is accepted. So he will search for a restaurant or bar to work in to challenge himself. He would meet Aaron there and after it go to get some beers after their night switch.

He worked in a nightclub but got kicked after flirting with his customers. Sigh…

His grades were mainly Bs but he got As on biology thanks to his big knowledge<3.

He got stressed when he had to pick a career and didn’t really have it sure, he just decided to study something related to biology and did deep research to see what was more amusing for him. So he decided to pick simply biology, and then end up working as a pharmacologist, which seemed interesting and not so hard for him.

Still, he did not finish the major because he got tired of the same routine. Then he dropped but begged Vladimir to stay in the dorm now that he found a little family to live with.

He knew Ethan from the same work and thanks to Aaron they both could get into the dorm due to the need of being somewhere close to the universities where they did study.

Beliath loves to travel a lot and whenever he has a holiday, he goes on spontaneous trips to other cities or countries. He definitely has been to Spain, Poland, Finland, Italy, Norway and Germany. He aims to travel further and visit other continents as well. He would love to go to Canada and Australia.

He is a big Lady Gaga fan and has gone to concerts of her. His insta stories were a big evidence of how he yelled and vibed to it. Next day he had no voice.

He also likes Britney Spears, Bad Omens, Melanie Martinez, Michael Bublé, Childish Gambino, Ricky Martin…

He is always calling for taxis, and definitely late to everywhere he has to go.

He is pretty obsessed with his phone to send tiktoks and shit to Ethan. His messages are good to understand, he uses the typical :) and :P, uses lol and lmao a lot and definitely answers to stuff with memes… cringe memes… Ivan teases him for that…

Has a very well organized spotify for each mood of his day. And he has NO shame in putting up nasty ahh songs every time he showers and sing them out loud.

He posts suggestive pics on twitter… yet his instagram is very friendly. He still receives flirty messages from people because he is always handsome in his pics. He posts the worst pics he has of Ethan too though.

He probably has an onlyfans.

Big eurovision fan.

Casual yet formal and attractive.

VLADIMIR

He had to put effort on classes no matter what since his family was pretty strict with that topic. Still, he developed the habit of using his free time to study something so he didn’t forget the topics and he was able to understand the lesson better. He even went to a language academy thanks to his parents, where he discovered a big passion for learning languages. He started with French and then learnt Spanish, Portuguese, Polish, German, Italian… and he definitely knows a little bit of Russian and Arabic.

The subjects he enjoyed the most were English literature, history and language. He got all As except in sport, since he has had a weak physical condition since young.

Deep inside he never wanted to focus all his time on studying, yet he obeyed his parents. He didn’t plan on going to college and he was forced to get into a computer science major since it is the most advantageous university major. But he did NOT like it at all.

Even if in this AU he has grown in the technology century, he still does not like it at all, even if he owns a phone. He owns it, but never uses it.

Even though he comes from a rich family, he decided to produce his money from a very young age with the idea of being independent sooner. He worked as a dog walker, as a teacher for younger kids that needed help with school, as someone to take care of the gardens of his neighbours… And thanks to this last job, he found out how much peace he got from being surrounded by flowers.

As soon as he turned 18, he moved into a dorm and searched for more roommates so the rent was cheaper and he didn’t have to explode himself that much. That’s how he met the other guys.

He didn’t finish the computer science major, he didn’t want it at all. He changed then into a horticultural science degree which he enjoyed the most and really had him in a good mood instead of studying something he didn’t like at all. During the years of the degree he achieved to open a flower shop in the city!

It was notorious the amount of effort and excitement he put into his small business, which helped him for the economy. His flower shop is really well organized by types of flowers and their colors, then he has a section for medicinal and legal herbs, and a section of tools for gardening. He also made a catalogue for those spiritual people who believe in the meanings of each flower (and he explained it truly well in there).

After the major, he went to a small course of herbs and then, once he was bored of not doing anything, he decided to do a major in a literature major, which he also truly enjoyed.

He has gone on small trips with Beliath… and not because he was going to enjoy the company of Beliath, but because he wanted to see the world.

Aaron, Raphael and him traveled to Egypt and enjoyed it a lot. Vladimir received a lot of calls from Ivan because Ethan and Beliath were making chaos in the dorm… He made video calls with Ivan to explain what they did on the day, just like a father-son relationship.

He has a blog where he writes his own self, expressing himself through writing. With this I mean that he posts poems and short narrative stories. He is planning to write a book :). But he also does book and movie reviews! Because he only likes seeing movies whenever Ethan, Aaron or Ivan are going to (as long as it isn’t terror).

He has his own garden in the dorm and had to argue Ethan a lot to avoid getting weed plants in his PRECIOUS garden.

He likes classical music and jazz, not rock or noisy stuff. He likes Mitski, Amy Winehouse, some songs of beabadoobee and not much from the actual era. He prefers classical playlists that can be easily found on youtube…

Whenever he texts someone, it seems more like a letter from the 15th century than a casual message.

He keeps his style as formal as he can, no matter the context. He doesn't even care if his dressing code seems old for the century, he likes it and that's what matters.

RAPHAEL

As he grew up, he wasn’t a blind kid, so he had the chance to see the world around him and find out his passion for art. He is a person that truly does admire the effort of artists, writers and musicians. So even if everything in school went well for him, literature and art subjects always went good for him due to the extra passion he placed on it.

He begged his parents to get classic books to read and some of them mainly focused on art, finding a true devotion for art history.

He was a big fan of Raffaello Sanzio, getting some of his paintings in his bedroom such as The School of Athens. He also got some paintings to decorate the walls of his bedroom such as The Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh, Mystic Nativity by Botticelli…

He really wanted to study art history and be able to teach people about historical paintings. Not only that but he went to an academy to learn deeply about the methods to paint on canvas, since he also liked that kind of stuff. He sold his own paintings for not much money, but simply to get something. He even did some commissions to people around him that needed it.

Raphael has an old twitter account where he posted his art and offered commissions to others.

since in this AU vampires aren’t seen, I’m gonna change a little bit of his canon history. In this AU, the way Raphael got blind was due to a car accident on a trip with his friends, where Margarita was human and she unluckily died.

He went to university late since he decided to first recover from the emotional shock and the depression he got sinked in. After it he decided to learn braille, and luckily he didn’t find it so hard, so he needed only weeks to be able to read, even if it was at a slow pace. He devoured braille books thanks to this, so it was a plus that he got to finish some books he had on his list since long ago.

He wanted to do something with his life that wasn’t simply reading in braille and being careful whenever he went outside to not get hurt.

If he couldn’t see and analyze more paintings, thing that saddened him, he could rely on the musician side of him. He decided to focus on his musician side and improve his skills, now that his hearing would be the most developed sense in his body after touch.

He decided to get into a major in music theory and composition, where he was able to express himself thanks to music.

Thanks to Ivan he was able to find out about audiobooks, so whenever he decided to lie down and rest, he heard an audiobook of any book Vladimir told him about. He also listens to podcasts and some of them about philosophy, which he finds truly interesting.

He likes soft music such as jazz, something that is calm and it isn’t too loud for him.

Every time he goes out with Aaron and Vladimir, he takes a grip in any of their arms to not get lost. Then they three go to drink a coffee and talk about some stuff related to their lives.

He is the therapist friend… If you want a school motivation speech, he knows how to give it properly. He is good at teaching other people, listening to them and advice them.

To pay the rent he luckily got to work in a library, which he loved as it was almost always quiet. But years later he got to do his own compositions and thanks to Ivan, post them on some platforms to get money from his effort!

Vladimir would hire him in his shop :3

We know he is a sweetheart, so he gets along with everyone in the dorm, adapting to their likes. Whenever Ethan watches crime documentaries, he listens to it with all the attention.

He owns a phone but doesn’t use it, only to answer the calls of others.

When Vladimir or Beliath go to buy some clothes, he always asks them to pick something nice yet comfortable for him to wear in home. He definitely has the cutest style of all of them.

ETHAN

He is a regular student with regular grades who barely puts effort on it but never fails. He is the clown classmate, and many people can’t stand him, but he is smart. During class he puts attention only on those stuff he finds interesting, which is biology and maths. He dislikes history but is really good at it.

He skipped some classes to go smoke something with his group of friends or to go gossip somewhere with Beliath.

He put effort the last year before university just because he started finding interest in being a doctor thanks to some shows he watched on Netflix. So he was pretty clear on choosing a major in medicine.

And he achieved it! He surprisingly put a lot of effort on it because he wanted to take good advantage of those years. But that doesn’t stop him from going to a party and having an exam the next day…

Still, he was passionate about the idea of being a doctor, so he tried pulling for jobs in hospitals mainly. The first years there was no response, but later he managed to get into a hospital as a clinical radiologist. He often took pics of some broken bones of his patients and sent them to Ivan or Beliath… (ivan is traumatized)

He goes to parties with a black eyeliner which makes him fucking gothic n handsome because he loves it. He isn’t an edgy like Ivan, he is just a low level of punk. He loves to wear rings and a unique dressing code.

He has a spotify playlist with anime openings which he vibes to. And it is thanks to Ivan actually.

Ethan worked as a delivery man for certain companies before being a clinical radiologist, as he knows how to drive a motorcycle.

Definitely dyed his hair several times.

Loves to take the guys to Finland so they can go skiing whenever they are bored. He loves adrenaline and those adventures which makes him feel it constantly.

He absolutely adores crime documentaries and terror movies.

He has a few tattoos around his body, and some of them were even made when he went to some parties. He won’t have many tattoos that actually mean something to him.

During his free time he plays some of the games he has on steam, and you can also tell that the soundtrack of any game or movie he likes, will be on his playlist. He has a small library on steam and the games which have more hours are definitely risk of rain 2, terraria and devil may cry. Even though he plays lethal company with Ivan and other friends. He simply pays for those games he knows he will like.

Loves slipknot, glass animals, the neighbourhood, onerepublic… and basically anything that has him humming the melody afterwards.

His twitter is filled with memes and definitely things that will get him into a cancellation thread… he has to learn to shut the fuck up more often.

His instagram is made in revenge to Beliath, where he posts the worst pics of him. He has no fear in posting funny videos with Ivan, Aaron, Beliath and other friends. Even though he got scolded by Vladimir when he heard that Ethan posted a video of Vladimir talking to his roses in the garden and writing on a corner “he’s becoming psychotic”.

Probably opens a youtube channel to post vlogs, paranormal videos in which he goes to explore random places, tasting weird food…

IVAN

He is the kind of student who sometimes puts his effort but unluckily doesn’t get the grade he expected. He isn’t the best student, but he isn’t the worst. He hates the idea of needing the help of others to understand some subjects, but at the end he feels like he doesn’t know anything after studying almost all the noon.

He was mostly late to class and that was because of Loic and him going to parties as teens (Constance joined most of times, yeah…), so he had hangover most of the times. Luckily that only was his teen years until he met Ethan near his campus and got a new friend group. Even if Ethan dragged him to parties, it was a way more healthy than with Loic and Constance.

His best grades were mainly on language and technology, maths and other shit were much lower than he ever expected. Still, he decided to do something he was more excited about: studying a major in computer science.

Even though the first months he found it difficult to be organized and did see it as a must, he learnt to like what he was doing and he became really passionate about the practical part.

It was currently something interesting for him as he was in constant touch with computers, a thing that he truly enjoyed.

He worked in a McDonald’s to pay the rent, and thanks to his knowledge through the years on the major, he was able to work in one of those stores where you can fix your computer and stuff. He enjoys it and he knows how to set up a computer piece by piece.

Edgy and freaky tastes in music huh. He goes from my chemical romance, slipknot, deftones, mindless self indulgence to The living tombstone, some k-pop groups (I need to make someone like aespa in here, but he also is an og EXO fan), and game soundtracks…

His steam acc is definitely filled with games, and some of them haven’t been touched yet. He spent all of his credit card in most parts of the games… (He is proud even if Vladimir and Aaron aren’t)

He is also an emo with his dressing code. 2010 emo vibes but modern at the same time… Vladimir has to scold him every now and then so he can wear something decent and regular to go to public spaces, but he doesn't actually have formal clothes actually… only the job ones..

He is a big jojo fan. He made Ethan and forced Aaron to watch jjba. He is always talking about jojo references and everyone around him see him as a weirdo -he is-

Bro is obsessed with brawl stars.

His twitter is filled with literally shitpost, just as his instagram.

He and Ethan decided to share the youtube channel so both of them had the chance to do their craziness ft. Beliath around there.

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